


The White Witch - Book One, Two

by BlackStarNYC



Category: Outlander, Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (2008), Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Curses, Demons, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Faith Fraser Lives, France - Freeform, Graphic Sex, Jacobite uprising, M/M, Multi, Scotland, Selkies, Spells & Enchantments, WW2, Witches, evil spirits, timetravel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-07-28 10:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 45
Words: 171,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackStarNYC/pseuds/BlackStarNYC
Summary: The Scottish matriarchal family—known as the "Thomson Witches"—have a long & forlorn history. Claire Thomson Beauchamp’s life turns to chaos as a teen when her Uncle gives her a family heirloom, and she becomes tormented by an evil spirit.  A curse puts her 200 years back in time into the 18th century, where she meets Jamie Fraser and falls in love. Claire and Jamie’s happiness becomes threatened by castle intrigue, a 200 year old clan feud, a Jacobite uprising, and that evil spirit that has haunted Claire’s family for centuries.Outlander Books 1,2,3 retold. Canon diversion... all characters are “out of character”  in relation to original story...Book One - Complete - Chapters 1-36Book Two - In Progress - Chapter 37 - ?





	1. Sweet Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire spends her 16th birthday on an archaeological dig with her Uncle Lamb.  
> Her Uncle give her a family heirloom as a present.

_October 20, 1936, Xpujil, Mexico_

Claire’s earliest childhood memories were very happy ones. That changed one evening when Claire was 6 years old and her Uncle Lamb carefully explained to her how both her parents were killed in a car accident when she was just a baby. He showed her pictures of her parents and told her some stories about their lives. Claire didn’t cry or completely understand the significance at such an early age, but she kept the pictures of her parents and looked at them often over the years. As Claire grew older she became more curious and would ask her Uncle questions and even snoop through his office to learn about her parent’s lives.

As her only living relative, Uncle Lamb took custody of Claire and raised her in a house near Oxford University where he had tenure. He was a successful professor and archaeologist that traveled frequently. With such a busy schedule, he hired Mrs. Crook to live full-time with them and serve as Claire’s governess. It was Claire’s father, Henry Beauchamp, who had first hired Mrs. Crook for the family as a housekeeper and cook while Claire’s mother, Julia, was pregnant. As a recently widowed woman from Scotland who had 2 adult children living with families of their own, Mrs. Crook was ecstatic to have a family to look after once again. She not only doted on Julia, but also became her closest friend. After the accident, Mrs. Crook felt it was her duty to stay on with Uncle Lamb to help raise Claire. She loved Claire like she was her own child. 

Uncle Lamb’s research required him to travel so frequently that Claire accompanied him on many extended trips to exotic places like Egypt and the Middle East. She learned to proofread scholarly articles and study artifacts which provided clues to deciphering ancient history. She also mastered less intellectual but necessary skills such as sleeping outdoors, boiling water for drinking, digging latrines and other tasks not suitable for a young English lady. Claire’s childhood was very unconventional. In her early teens, Uncle Lamb tried to enroll Claire in a proper boarding school in London, but she flatly refused to attend. Uncle Lamb was too kind to drag her kicking and screaming up the school’s steps, so he allowed her to remain with him and kept Mrs. Crook in the household for supervision. 

Claire smiled to herself as she took in her surroundings. Arriving just a couple of days ago, this was her first time in Mexico and she was still acclimating to the humid weather. October was quite chilly back home, and she had left England wearing a heavy wool coat. Claire was excited for this chance to once again assist her Uncle Lamb with his work. The newly discovered Mayan ruins at Becan afforded a unique opportunity for Uncle Lamb and would take many months for proper excavation. Claire, in turn, had used her birthday as a reason to insist he simply must bring her along for part of the trip. Mrs. Crook had pleaded a similar case. Uncle Lamb relented and they all traveled to Mexico together. Claire would spend a month in Mexico and return to England with Mrs Crook just in time for the holidays and to ring in the New Year, 1937.

It was her 16th birthday today. She awoke early to her favorite breakfast prepared by no other than her Uncle Lamb. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for Claire. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp. “Q” to his archaeological students and his friends. “Dr. Beauchamp” to the scholarly circles but always Uncle Lamb to Claire. He remembered her love of pancakes and cooked them in the morning, although they tasted more like a sugared tortillas.  
“Have a fun day today in the market girls! And Claire, I have a big surprise coming for you soon!” he said with smiling eyes.  
“Surprise! What surprise? What is it?” She exclaimed.  
“You’ll find out soon enough... have a great day, dear” he said and kissed her cheek. “You too young lady!” He said with a wink to Mrs. Crook.  
“Haud yer wheesht Q! “ she said with a playful laugh.  
And off Uncle Lamb went for the day. He had to attend a meeting with his colleagues about the excavation site, but would return before supper. Claire watched him leave while contemplating his big surprise. Although Claire was disappointed she couldn’t go along with her uncle, Mrs. Crook was preparing to take her out to explore more of the town. Then later, they would all celebrate her birthday with an evening dinner.

Claire enjoyed working side by side with her Uncle. Even though she was excited about the Mayan ruins, she found herself thinking about “digging” and researching into her own family history when she returned to England.  
“I am sixteen now, practically an adult. I’m old enough to see the death records of my parents.” Claire thought to herself as she sighed. 

As Claire gazed out the window, lost in her thoughts, she did not see the familiar figure walking up the side of the cottage. She jumped as the door opened and a buoyant voice called out, “Where’s the birthday girl, Miss Lady Jane at?”  
Claire squealed as she jumped up and threw her arms around her uncle’s best friend.  
“Uncle Joe! You’re here! Uncle Lamb didn’t tell me!” she exclaimed. “And you!” She mockingly glared at Mrs. Crook who was walking up to greet him. “You were in on this secret as well! Her eyes narrowed as Mrs. Crook smiled sheepishly.  
“Guilty as charged, lass!” she chuckled.  
“You didn’t think I would miss your sweet sixteen party, did you Lady Jane?” Joe said with a smile.  
Joe Abernathy, her Uncle’s best friend and colleague, was more like an uncle to Claire just as Uncle Lamb was more like a father. Originally from Boston, he moved his family to England a decade ago to work at the University. ‘Lady Jane’ was the playful nickname he gave Claire because of her distinct and proper English accent.  
“But how? You weren’t on the airplane with us”, Claire asked.  
“I’ve already been here a month Lady J. The university sent me early to make arrangements for the crew and I was very pleased to be able to skip the meeting today and celebrate with you!”  
Claire beamed. “This is the best birthday surprise! Thank you, Uncle Joe!”

The town of Xpujil was more like a small village. It was two hours from the dig site and at least a day away from Mexico City, but it was the closest place to accommodate them. It was a hot day and Claire didn’t care for some of the town’s smells. The butchers hung sliced parts of meat for sale in front of the shops. Claire cringed at the hunks of skinned animal parts that appeared to be rotting in the unforgiving sun. And there were so many flies around.  
“I guess I’ve smelled worse” Claire remarked as Joe chuckled. He had been along previous trips with them. Some were better than others.  
Mrs. Crook was doing her best to keep a happy face but she was slowly turning red in the intense sun while constantly wiping her face with a handkerchief. 

“Perhaps we should have left her at home” Claire whispered to Joe. She didn’t even think Mrs. Crook would be joining them on this trip. But Mrs. Crook insisted she wouldn’t miss her birthday and also wanted to experience travel on an airplane. In her 55 years, she had never once traveled beyond England and Scotland. And certainly had never stepped foot on an airplane! There were no words to describe Mrs. Crook’s expression as a stewardess in a neatly pressed uniform served them tea. Air travel was quite the sensation, and not many were lucky enough to experience it yet.  
“Now Lady J, she didn’t want to miss this day either. Sweet sixteen is a special birthday. You’re really a “Lady” now. Soon you will be grown and living your own life with your own family.” He glanced up and said, “There’s a small hut over here with handmade shawls you may like. Let’s have a look.”

They walked over to the hut where a woman was selling baskets full of what appeared to be blankets.  
“These are rebozos, hand made shawls by this woman. I thought you might like one for when the weather is slightly chilly in England?” Joe said.  
Claire looked at the elderly lady and smiled. She was very energetic despite her years and her weaving was beautiful. She came over to them and picked up a brightly colored green selection and wrapped it around Claire’s shoulders.  
“Para ti. Tus ojos son hermosos,” she said softly.  
Claire smiled. She had no idea what the woman said.  
“She said you have beautiful eyes” Joe whispered.  
“Oh Claire, you look so bonnie” Mrs. Crook said. “Just like your mam. She had the brightest green eyes and this color makes yer eyes look most the same. It’s as if it was fashioned by the faeries”. Her eyes watered slightly at the memory. 

Julia Beauchamp was known for her bright green eyes, her curly dark hair and slight frame. Just like a fairy. Whenever anyone talked about her mother, her beauty was always mentioned. Claire thought of herself as rather plain looking, not the beauty her mother was. Claire’s eyes were light brownish, definitely not green, and her hair dark brown. She guessed she looked more like her father, who had dark eyes and dark hair. Although her hair was wavy and slightly curly like her mother.  
Claire touched the finely woven heavy silk and brushed it against her cheek. It was perfect!  
“I love it”, she said softly.  
“Then it’s yours! Anything for your birthday, Lady J.” Joe said as he paid the grateful vendor. 

As they continued to explore the village, Joe paused in front of a small tent with a woman sitting at a table set up inside. There were various rocks and tinctures and simple jewelry laid out on the table, but Claire’s eyes went immediately to a curious set of cards spread out. Joe looked at her and smiled.  
“Buenos días para ti María” Joe said.  
“Que Dios te bendiga Jose” Maria replied.  
“Who is that?” Claire asked.  
“That’s Maria, the town’s fortune teller. She spends her day reading fortunes with a set of cards offering advice on love, money, herbal cures and “cleansing potions”. Rain or shine, she is out here everyday.”  
Curiosity piqued, Claire walked over to the table to examine the contents laid out.

Mrs. Crook walked up softly behind Claire and whispered, “Come along wi’ me now Claire, we should no’ be talking to the witch folk on yer birthday. We dinnae want to be bringin’ ye bad luck”.  
Mrs. Crook was a very superstitious woman, often mentioning the faeries and other Scottish folklore. Claire looked to Joe with wide eyes. He had a habit of studying the local folklore and religions throughout the regions they traveled.  
“Witches! Is that true? Joe, is she a witch?” Claire glanced at the tattered tarot cards spread out on the well worn table and the small potions of liquid and wondered what she did with them. It looked harmless.  
Maria’s eyes frowned slightly as she noticed the look of alarm on Mrs. Crook’s face. Joe winked at Maria.  
“Ellos piensan que podrías ser una bruja.” Joe said lightly. _They think you might be a witch._  
Maria’s eyes widened in shock. “Mi misión es ayudar a la gente. Pero no soy una bruja como algunas personas piensan. La verdadera bruja puede lanzar hechizos o curarlos. Nacen con poderes especiales para bien o para mal.” She explained.  
“I don’t understand a word she just said.” Claire remarked as she looked at Joe. Then she glanced over and noticed the distrustful look on Mrs. Crook’s face. She was not comfortable in the situation and was eager to move on.  
“She said her mission is to help others. She’s not a witch although some people think she is. If she were a witch she could cast spells for good or evil” Joe explained. Spanish was one of the several languages Joe was fluent in.  
“I think I want my fortune told” Claire replied as she stared at the cards. What would they predict?

Just then she heard what sounded like singing. She looked past the fortune teller’s tent just as Maria was raising her hand to her forehead and made the sign of the cross over herself. Claire watched in amazement as a snake charmer, an old man, approached slowly toward the town center as he chanted in foreign tongue and played with the snake. Slowly a crowd started to gather around to watch and pay their respects, many digging into their pockets to leave a coin behind.  
Joe strode next to her.  
“He is what you call a shaman. He performs in hopes to sell magical services. Many people leave coins behind without seeking services anyway, perhaps to ensure he does not put a hex on their day at the market” Joe explained.  
“Is there anything creepy that you don’t have an explanation for? What was your PhD in again?” Claire joked.  
Joe laughed. “It’s Dr. Creepy to you, Lady J!”  
Joe’s studies of local folklore have turned him into quite an encyclopedia for the supernatural!  
“We’re supposed to be celebrating the lass’s birthday, no singin’ songs to wake the deid!” Mrs. Crook exclaimed. She continued to furiously dab at her face with a handkerchief. The unfamiliar sites and sounds of Mexico were already wreaking havoc on the poor woman’s nerves.  
“Yes, we should head home now. Uncle Lamb might be waiting.” Claire said and looked over at the shaman one last time. And suddenly, she felt like she was falling... Claire swooned.  
“Whoa! Are you feeling alright?” Joe examined looking at her face with concern.  
“I’m fine, I think I might just be thirsty”. She allowed Joe to take her arm and realized she might be a bit overheated as well. It had been chilly when they left England and the hot climate was a shock to her system. Claire immediately stepped forward and began walking very quickly towards home. She had a headache wanted to get to their cottage as soon as possible.  
“Now jist haud on lass! We dinnae want ye fainting on yer birthday, ye ken!” Mrs. Crook exclaimed. 

By the time they returned to the cottage, Claire felt as though her head was completely split in two. She had never experienced such a headache. The pain was making her break out into a sweat and her eyes watered.  
“Claire, are you feeling ok?” Joe asked with a worried look on his face.  
She knew she must look dreadful to be addressed as “Claire” and not “Lady J” by Joe. Mrs. Crook was eyeing her very carefully too.  
“I’m just not used to the heat and getting so much sun. It is October after all” she remarked dismissively. But she knew her facial expression betrayed her. The bright sunlight was not helping with the pain. She wanted to go into her room and crawl under the dark covers.  
“Och, lass! Go on now and find yer bed... Ye need a wee nap before supper.” Mrs. Crook suggested.  
Joe continued to watch her with a concerned look. “Q will be home soon. Take some rest Lady J and we’ll get you up in time for your birthday dinner.”  
Claire gave her best smile as she slowly made her way to her bedroom. Suddenly her clothes felt very restricting. She felt hot and cold at the same time. She removed shoes and skirt and fell upon her bed in her blouse and stockings. She put a pillow over her head and within minutes she found herself asleep.

Claire was sitting in a sparsely furnished room. There was a bed, a side table and two chairs. The walls were white and there were bars on the windows. Claire sat unmoving while she gazed out the window at some clouds in the sky when she heard someone screaming in the distance. The voice got louder and she realized someone was calling her name.  
“Claire! Lass! Come now, ye must get up!” Mrs. Crook was standing over her. The sight of her brought Claire back to consciousness but her body still felt heavy as if she were moving underwater. The sun was going down and the room was lit with subtle pink and purple hues. It was evening and she could smell the meal that awaited. Claire smiled and forced herself to sit up.  
“I’m alright now. I’m feeling much better. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be right out”  
Mrs. Crook gave her a warm smile as she moved towards the door. “Dinnae be too long dear. The lads are gettin’ ready fur supper”. She softly closed the door behind her.

Claire yawned and forced herself to get out of bed. Her stomach growled and she realized just how famished she was. Quickly she put on clean clothes and freshened up from the day. She was eager to see Uncle Lamb and hear about the details for the new excavation. The smell of food made her stomach growl again. Within minutes, she left her room to join the others. She was greeted with smiles and laughs.  
“At last! Sleeping beauty awakes! Happy birthday dear” Uncle Lamb said as he stood up to give her a hug.  
Claire sat down and smiled. There were many candles burning on the table and around the buffet that gave the dining room a festive glow. Uncle Lamb hired a local village woman to to prepare the dinner tonight. She served them a traditional dish called Pozole, a hearty stew which was a delicious as it smelled. There was also fresh tortillas, mole, salsa, several cooked meats and Claire’s favorite... a melted spicy cheese. She ate until she was stuffed.

“That was the best meal I’ve eaten in 2 months!” Joe exclaimed.  
“Remember to leave some room for dessert” Uncle Lamb said as he winked at Claire. Just then, the village woman came out with a chocolate cake with a single candle burning upon it. They sang happy birthday as she set the plate down in front of Claire. She closed her eyes and made a silent wish. _I wish to know who my parents were._ Then she opened her eyes and blew out the candle. Everyone clapped and Claire thanked them all for a wonderful birthday.

“Now hold on a second dear. There’s still one more surprise up my sleeve” Uncle Lamb announced. Then he pulled out a package from his pocket and handed it to her. “A present for you, Claire, from your mother.”  
Claire’s eyes widened and Mrs. Crook drew in a sharp breath. _’From my mother?’_ Claire thought silently as she carefully unwrapped the gift. She opened the small box to find the most beautiful emerald necklace she had ever seen. It was bright green teardrop shaped emerald on a long dainty silver chain. It looked like something a princess would wear.  
“Now Claire, your mother, Julia, wore that everyday, and when you were born she told me that someday it would belong to you.” Uncle Lamb said solemnly. He looked at her so tenderly as Mrs. Crook fastened the chain around her neck. Claire’s eyes misted over and so did Mrs. Crook’s.  
“So bonnie, just like yer mam” she whispered and gave Claire a peck on the cheek.  
“It’s beautiful and I will wear it every day!” Claire said.  
Dinner suddenly took a more somber tone and Claire noticed her headache beginning to return. She walked over to her Uncle and gave him the biggest hug then kissed him on the cheek.  
“Thank you so much. I love you” she whispered.  
“I love you too, dear”  
As dinner concluded, they all exchanged hugs and talked about tomorrow’s plans as Joe prepared to head to his cottage.  
“I expect to see you up bright and early Lady J! You only get to sleep in once, and tomorrow is not your birthday!” 

It was hot. Very hot. She tried to move but her body felt too heavy. She was frightened. The more she tried to move, the more immobile she became. She felt something wet and heavy sliding up her leg. Dear God! It was a snake! She panicked and tried to move but could not. She tried to scream but no sound came out of her mouth. She tried to scream again... and again.. and...

“Claire! Claire! Wake up!” She woke up and realized she was screaming out loud. She felt wet and then noticed her body was drenched in sweat? Although she felt sticky too. Uncle Lamb and Mrs. Crook were both in her room. They turned on the lights and Claire heard Mrs. Crook gasp. Her uncle’s face appeared to be frozen as he stared at her. Mrs. Crook began to pray out loud in Gaelic as Uncle Lamb came over and sat by her bed.  
“Claire, are... are you all right?” He said softly. His voice wavering.  
Claire wasn’t completely awake and had no idea why they seemed so nervous. This was not the first time she has a nightmare. She sometimes had them as a small child. That is when she noticed the blood. She looked down at her legs beneath her nightgown, and there were deep scratches all over them. And then she noticed her arms were stinging too. She had deeps scratches all over her arms. And they were bleeding! What happened to her?

“Uncle Lamb, what happened?” She asked with a shaky voice. Her throat felt tight and she was trying her best to stop the tears from flowing. She knew if she started to cry, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Her fingernails weren’t that long. She couldn’t have done this to herself. Was someone in her room? Who could have broken in their cottage and attacked her without waking her?  
Uncle Lamb was silent but the look on his face showed his terror. Suddenly, Claire felt like something was missing. Something was taken. Instinctively, she reached for her neck and felt the necklace was not there!  
“My necklace!” She cried. “It’s gone!” Her eyes filling with tears. She could not withhold them any longer. She then let out a loud choked sob and her uncle put his arms around her and rocked her gently as she cried in his arms.  
“Oh no, lass! Dinnae cry. This is nothing but a few wee scratches.... It isnae yer fault... yer just not used to yer surroundings and ye had a nightmare.... ” Mrs Crook said with tears forming in her eyes. “I’m gonna set up a bath fur ye now lass so we can clean ye up, I ken ye willae mind it will be cold”.

Claire nodded as Mrs. Crook stepped out of the room and then turned to look Uncle Lamb in the eye.  
“Do you think someone broke in here and stole my necklace?” She whimpered. Her eyes were still streaming with tears.  
Uncle Lamb stared back at her. For a moment he was at a loss for words.  
“Claire, it’s only been 3 hours since you’ve been to bed. I’ve been up studying plans for the excavation site. I would have seen if someone came into the cottage. Nobody has been in your room”. He looked around the room briefly. “Maybe in your nightmare you ripped it off”. He then settled his gaze on the cuts all over her arms. He didn’t say a word as he slowly took her hand in his and inspected her fingernails. There were bits of flesh and blood beneath them. He clasped her hand in his and lifted it to his lips and gave a small kiss to the palm of her hand.  
“Let’s clean these cuts and get some fresh clothes on you. We can look for the necklace in the morning. I’m sure it’s around the room somewhere.”

Claire nodded at once and quickly drew her hand away. She felt suddenly embarrassed. What had happened? Why did she scratch herself so deeply that she drew blood? And how could she have done that in her sleep? Her arms and legs were stinging. She was completely bewildered but allowed her uncle to lead her to the bathroom where Mrs. Crook awaited to attend to her wounds.

As Claire was washing up, Q Beauchamp walked back into her bedroom. He examined her bed sheets and noticed the blood on them. Her self inflicted wounds were excessive but mostly superficial. He did not think it would lead to permanent damage or scars. His brow furrowed as he was reminded again of the first time his brother introduced him to Julia. Julia seemed to have a lot of ‘accidents’ and ‘bad dreams’ prior to their deaths. Q shivered at the memory. _’My sweet Claire. Always such a bright and happy child. What could be troubling her?’_ he thought to himself and left the room. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

Claire awoke the next morning and freshened up in the bathroom. She inspected the scratches on her arm and already they were healing rapidly. She knew in a couple days the marks would be gone. As she stared at her reflection, she noticed her eyes seemed lighter. They looked more green than light brown. Was it possible for eyes to change color? How could her eyes suddenly turn green?  
She walked out to a quiet breakfast table. Uncle Lamb sipped his coffee somberly as Mrs. Crook silently busied herself with chores.  
Uncle Lamb cleared his throat.  
“Claire, I know you were hoping to see some ruins today, but I really think you should stay here and rest. It’s possible you may have caught a virus and I have arranged for Joe to keep you company again while I’m gone. We don’t want you in a position without access to proper medical care if indeed you are sick.”  
He gave her a curt nod and then smiled. He wanted to reassure her there was nothing to be afraid of. She just caught a bug, and would be well enough soon. Claire was young and healthy.  
“Thank you. I’m sorry if I worried you. I think a day of rest is just what I need. You’re right, I probably caught a virus. I did have a headache yesterday afternoon.” She replied.  
Claire was secretly relieved. Although she didn’t feel sick, she must have caught some kind of foreign bug. She also didn’t want to be introduced to new acquaintances in her condition. She had chosen a long skirt to wear, but she didn’t pack any long sleeve shirts and it was too hot to wear her wool coat. The scratches were too noticeable to ignore and she didn’t want Uncle Lamb’s colleagues asking her any questions. What could she say? She was mauled by a wild animal? She fell down hiking and landed in some prickly bushes?

After breakfast, she spent the next hour in her room looking for the emerald necklace that she lost. It had to be here. It couldn’t just disappear. She moved her bed, removed all the blankets and sheets but she could not find it. She continued to look frantically until she heard Mrs Crook talking to Joe in the front room. She left her bedroom to join them. 

“Lady J! Why the long face? You look like you lost your best friend, but I’m here so there’s no need to look so glum!”  
Claire tried to smile but just ended up shrugging her shoulders. “I lost the necklace Uncle Lamb gave me last night in my room somewhere and I cannot find it” she said.  
Joe gave her a sympathetic look. “Try not to worry. It couldn’t have gotten far. Why don’t we go out for a short walk and get some fresh air. Once you relax a bit Lady J, I’m sure you’ll discover it’s been right underneath your nose the whole time”.  
Claire reluctantly nodded. She was feeling very frustrated and welcomed the distraction. “Let me just tell Mrs. Crook we are taking a short walk and I will meet you outside” she said as she began walking toward the kitchen. She noticed Joe’s gaze on her arms. She was sure her Uncle Lamb paid Joe a visit earlier that morning to inform him of the events last night, but she still couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. She was afraid of being asked any questions and felt uncomfortable.

They left the cottage together in silence. Claire wrapped her new green rebozo around her shoulder and covered her arms. She wanted to avoid any scrutiny if possible. Just up the road Claire noticed the tent again with the fortune teller woman. She had her table set up exactly the same as the day before, although she was closer to their cottage.  
“Look, it’s Maria” she said to Joe.  
They walked towards the tent and Joe gave the woman smile. “Buenos días para ti María” he said.  
“Dios te bendiga a ti y a tu sobrina” Maria said. Then she stood up, and took an amulet off the table and walked over to Claire.  
Claire stood still as she watched the woman walk up to her and gently place the amulet below her neck. The amulet was a small gold abstract pattern that hung from a thin black cord. Maria tied it loosely around her neck. Claire was speechless. Maria then looked her in the eyes and Claire looked back at her and shook her head slowly.  
“Uncle Joe? Why did she just put this necklace on me?” She asked.  
Maria observed her questioning expression and replied in Spanish then made the sign of the cross over herself and began to murmur a prayer as she moved to sit back down.  
Claire looked to Joe for a translation.  
“What did she say, Uncle Joe?” She asked him urgently.  
“She said she wanted to give you this necklace for the one that is lost. She says you have changed and the amulet offers protection from evil spirits and shape shifters trick the living.” he explained. “I wonder how she knew you lost your mom’s necklace”, he added clearly impressed with Maria’s talents.  
Claire’s eyes widened with fascination. “She said I’ve changed? What does she mean?”   
“Now that you mention it, you do look different Lady J. Your eyes look... different...” he said bewildered.   
Uncle Joe, can you please ask her to give me a reading.... I have some coins” she said eagerly.  
Joe did not wish to hang around but the pleading look on Claire’s face was not a look he could refuse. The girl had a rough night and it was her birthday yesterday. Maybe this would lighten the mood.  
“ Alright Lady J... lets see what fortunes await you. But I already know you are destined for greatness” as he gestured for her to take the empty seat at the card table.

Claire smiled and sat down. She watched intently as Maria shuffled the cards and placed them before Claire.  
“Cut the cards in half” Joe instructed.  
Claire divided the deck. And the woman picked them up then and began to lay out the cards. As she laid out the cards she began to read the cards in Spanish. Claire saw a familiar picture of the moon in the first card. Joe listened intently and translated for Claire when the woman paused....  
“You will have a long life that is rich and full... the road ahead will sometimes be fraught with difficulties and it will be hard to make out the path in the dark of night.” He translated.  
The second card was what appeared to be a man hanging upside down. Claire stared at the card as the woman told of its meaning then looked up to Joe to translate once again.  
“A curse hangs over you. Danger to those who come under your thrall. And there will be many. There is danger, infirmity and disease. She does not know what kind because there are many kinds of sickness.  And then a time of life…a time of love and energy across mountains and oceans and time.”  
Claire listened intently as she stared at the next card. It was clearly the devil and she winced as she listened to the interpretation.  
“A time of obsession from a man. He is not what he seems. Change is on the horizon. When one door closes, another will open...”  
“The next card is Justice. There will be a trial before a powerful magistrate where you will be found guilty. However, if you look to the power within, you will be reborn...” Joe continued...

Claire’s headache started to return. She felt overheated again and it was accompanied by the familiar light headed drowsiness. Claire closed her eyes.... she didn’t know how many minutes had passed before she heard her name shouted loudly.  
“Claire!” Joe said loudly as he clapped his hands in front of her face.  
Maria gazed at her and started speaking again as she pointed to the talisman she gave to her.  
“What is she saying? I’m fine, please Joe, please tell me what is she saying?” Claire pleaded.  
“The Mayans believed that evil spirits could shape shift in the night, turn into animals or other people to trick the living. It’s just legends Claire.... “ he paused...  
“You don’t look well, perhaps we should get back to the cottage. I thought this entertainment would cheer you up, but I think a nap would do you more good.”  
Claire smiled. “We can go back... This was fun but I do think I may be coming down with a flu or something. I could use a nap.” Claire smiled at the woman and stood up from the chair. Suddenly everything went black. Claire fell to the ground.

Claire awoke later that night screaming and covered in sweat. It was dark. Within moments Uncle Lamb, Joe and Mrs. Crook were in her room. Mrs. Crook came over to her bedside and felt her forehead.  
“I’ve seen fevers like this that have killed a lass! We’ve got to get her home to England to a proper doctor! Ye ken she could be dying!” Mrs. Crook shrieked.

Claire listened and as she looked around the room...  
“Did you see him?” She asked as she looked up at her uncle..  
“See him? Who are you talking about?” Uncle Lamb asked with concern. He looked at Claire and was suddenly taken aback. Her eye color had completely changed. He looked at Joe who had noticed it too. Claire’s eyes were bright green like an emerald.  
Claire tried to sit up, her head was muddled.  
“There was a man in my room. He scared me.” She said.  
Uncle Lamb and Joe became very alarmed. Joe checked her bedroom windows while Uncle Lamb checked the other rooms.  
“There’s nobody else here, Claire. Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” Uncle Lamb asked.  
“No, he was just here. He put these flowers on my bedside table and gave me my mother’s necklace back,” Claire said holding up and dangling her mother’s emerald necklace before them and then fainted letting the darkness embraced her.


	2. The Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julia Thomson inherits her family’s curse as a child... she is haunted by an evil spirit.... they call him ‘the man’

_Inverness, 1630_

Father Mason left the church around noon to pay a house visit. The earliest Masses each day were crowded, and there were weddings and funerals all week long at St. Mary’s, but he hoped Margarete Thomson would welcome the call. Father Mason would be visiting out of curiosity. There were too many rumors. When he first arrived to Inverness, leaving his native homeland in Ireland, he had spent more than one pleasant afternoon talking to Margarete about the weather, and the history of the parish Father Mason was trying to learn. And he had liked little Julia, too, that pretty-faced six-year-old lass he had known for so brief a time.  
Yet he could not help but think of all the stories he had ever heard of the Thomson women. Julia’s father had died when she was a baby, and her mother soon after. Although the circumstances were suspicious, it was decided that the deaths were accidental. That didn’t stop the rumors and whispers throughout the town though. 

Father Mason stopped in front of their house. He heard the child Julia whispering in his ear. And he could feel evil as he rested his weight against the wooden fence, as he looked up into the surrounding hills. He mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. Little Julia had told him that she saw the devil! He heard her voice just as clearly now as he had heard it in the confessional months ago. And he heard her footsteps, too, as she ran from the church, ran from him.

But it had started before that. It had started on a dreary afternoon when Sister Bridget Marie was calling for a priest to please come to the play yard.  
He found Sister Bridget Marie quickly enough, in a small meadow behind the old convent building. The building was quaint and sad with its broken walls, and the gnarled tree with the wooden benches built in a square around it.  
Sister Bridget Marie held one pale shivering child by the thin part of her upper arm. The child was white with fear. Yet very pretty she was, her green eyes too big for her thin face, her black hair in long careful corkscrew curls that shivered against her cheeks.  
There were flowers strewn all over the ground—big gladiolus and white lilies and long fronds of green fern and even big beautifully formed red roses. There were so many …  
“Do ye see that, Father?” Sister Bridget Marie exclaimed.  
“And they ha’ the nerve to tell me it was her invisible friend, the devil himself, that put those flowers here, brought them right into her arms while they watched, the little thieves! They stole those flowers from the very altar of St. Mary’s—!”  
The little girls began to scream. One of them stamped her feet. A chorus of “We did see, we did see!” broke out with alarming fury and choking sobs.  
Sister Bridget Marie shouted for silence. She shook the little girl she had been holding by the arm, though the child had said nothing as her mouth dropped open in shock.  
“Now, Sister, please,” Father Mason said. He had gently freed the child. She was dazed, utterly pliant. He wanted to pick her up, wipe her face where the tears had smudged it with dirt. But he didn’t.  
“Her invisible friend,” the sister said, “the one that finds everything that’s lost, Father. The one that puts the coins for sweets into her pockets! And they all eat it, too, stuffing their mouths wi’ it, stolen coins, ye can be sure of it.”  
And Father Mason realized he was stepping all over the flowers and the silent child was staring at his shoes, at the white petals crushed beneath them.  
“Let the children go in,” Father Mason had said taking control of the situation. Then could he make sense of what Sister Bridget Marie was telling him.

But the story was no less fantastic when he and the sister were alone. The children claimed they saw the flowers flying through the air. They claimed they saw the flowers land in Julia’s arms. They had been laughing and laughing. Julia’s magic friend always made them laugh, they said. Julia’s friend could find anything if you lost it. You asked Julia and he brought it to her. And there it was. And they even claimed to have seen him themselves—a nice man, a man with dark black hair and dark eyes, and he would stand for one second right next to Julia.

“It happens all the time.” Sister Bridget Marie said. I talked wi’ her Grandmother Margarete and her Aunt Isla, and then it stops for a time. Then it starts up again.”  
“But ye dinna believe—” he started.  
“Father, I tell ye it’s six of one, half a dozen of another. Either the devil’s in that lass, or she’s a devil of a liar, and makes them believe her tall tales as if she’s got them bewitched.”  
Father Mason had taken Julia home himself, walking slowly, steadily with her with not speaking a word.

“Overactive imagination, Father,” Miss Margarete said without a trace of concern when he arrived with Julia.  
“Isla, what Julia needs is a warm bath.” And off the child had gone without a word spoken, and Miss Margarete had taken Father Mason out for the first time into the garden room for tea. Miss Isla had set out the cups and silver. They sat together discussing the church and Miss Margarete put him at ease at once with her knowing smile.  
“Ye might say it’s the curse of our family, Father, this excess of imagination.” She poured the hot milk and the hot tea from two small silver pitchers. “We dream dreams; we see visions; we should have been poets or painters it seems.”  
She had laughed softly, easily. “Julia will be just fine, when she learns to tell fantasy from reality.”  
Afterwards, she had shown him through the lower rooms. Margarete explained that Julia would be going to the Sacred Heart convent just as soon as there was a place. She was so sorry for this silly disturbance at St. Mary’s.  
Father had started to object, but it was all decided.  
“We are an old family, Father,” Margarete said, as they went back into the double parlor. “We dinna even ken how old. There is no one now who can identify some of the portraits you see around you.” Her voice was half amused, half weary. “We came from the Isles, that’s what we ken for certain. The house is full of unexplained relics.” Her hands passed lightly over the grand piano, over the gilded harp. She had little taste for such things, she said. “And now if ye will excuse me, Father? I should see to Julia.” They walked out to the gate together. “Thank you so much, Father!” And so it had all been waved away.

But in the days that followed it had bothered Father Mason, the question of those flowers. Impossible to imagine a gang of little girls climbing over the communion rail and robbing the altars of an enormous and impressive church like St. Mary’s. What did Sister Bridget Marie really think had happened? Had the children really stolen the flowers?

The short heavyset round-faced nun studied him a moment before she answered. Then she said no.  
“Father, as God is my witness, they’re a cursed family, the Thomson’s are. And the grandmother of that very lass, Margarete she is called, gave the very same excuses about her own daughter in this very same church many a year ago. It was a frightening power Margarete Thomson had over those around her. There were nuns under this very roof who were scairt to death to cross her, a witch is what they called her then and now.”  
“Och, come now, Sister,” he had objected immediately.  
“Well, then, Father, let me tell ye this much, that Margarete Thomson once took my hand, and held it like this, she did, and told me secrets of my own that I ha’ no’ told a living soul. I swear it to ye, Father. It happened to me. There was a keepsake I’d lost at home, a chain with a crucifix on it, and I’d cried and cried as a lass when I’d lost it, and that very same little keepsake Margarete Thomson described to me.  
“Ye want it back, Sister?” she said. And all the time smiling in her sweet way, just like her granddaughter Julia can smile at you now, more innocent than cunning. ‘I’ll get it for you, Sister,’ she said.  
‘Through the power of the devil, ye mean, Margarete Thomson,’ I answered her. ‘I’ll have no’ of it.’”  
“Superstition, Sister!” he’d said with great authority. “What about little Julia’s mother? You’re no’ going to tell me she was a witch, too?”  
Sister Bridget Marie shook her head. “That was Antha, a lost one, shy, sweet, afraid of her own shadow—no’ at all like her mother, Margarete, that is. Ye should have seen Miss Margarete’s face when they buried Antha. But Antha, stark raving mad at the end, they said, and no’ but a lass of twenty when she run up the stairs in the old house and jumped from the top window and dashed her head on the stones below.”  
“So young,” he’d whispered. He remembered the pale, frightened face of Julia Thomson. How old had she been when the young mother did such a thing?  
“They buried Antha in consecrated ground, God ha’ mercy on her soul. For who’s to judge the state of mind of such a lass? And baby Julia screamin’ out her lungs in the cradle. But then even Antha was somethin’ to fear.”  
Father Mason was quietly reeling. It was the kind of talk he’d heard all his life at home, however, the endless Irish dramatizing of the morbid, the tribute to the tragic.  
“Let me tell one story about Antha,” she said, her voice low, “which is the best one that I ken. On one spring day, during quiet time, a mean wicked lass comes up to frighten the poor, shy little Antha wi’ the body of a dead rat she’d found under the hedge. Antha takes one look at the dead rat and lets out a chilling scream, Father, such as ye never heard! And we come running, as ye can imagine, and what do ye think we see? That mean wicked lass thrown over on her back, Father, her face bloody and the rat flying out of her hand over that very fence! And do ye think it was little Antha did such a thing, Father? A mite of a lass, as delicate as her daughter Julia is today? Oh, no! ’Twas the selfsame invisible fiend did it, Father, the devil himself, as brought those flowers flying through the air to Julia in this yard a sennight ago.”  
“Sister, ye must think I am daft”—Father Mason had laughed—“ to believe something like that. Superstitious Scots!”  
The Thomsons fascinated him, but the tales of Margarete and Antha were remote enough to be romantic and nothing more.  
The following Sunday he called again on the Thomsons. He was offered tea once more and pleasant conversation—it was all so removed from Sister Bridget Marie’s tales. They even asked him to stay to Sunday dinner—the table was beautifully set with thick linen napkins and silver cutlery—but he politely declined. Miss Margarete placed several coins, a generous donation for the parish, in his hand.

A month passed before his view of the Thomsons changed forever, on the unforgettable Saturday afternoon that Julia came to confession in St. Mary’s Church.  
It was during the regular hours when all the good Scottish Catholics could be counted upon to clear their consciences before Mass and Communion on Sunday.  
And so he was seated in the ornate wooden house of the confessional his narrow chair behind a green serge curtain, listening in alternation to the penitents who came to kneel in the small cells to the left and the right of him.  
Then a child’s voice had caught him off guard, through the dark dusty grille—He had not recognized it. After all, Julia Thomson had not spoken one word before in his presence.  
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was months ago. Father, help me please. I canna fight the devil. I try and I always fail. And I’m going to go to hell for it.”  
What was this, more of Sister Bridget Marie’s influence? But before he could speak, the lassie went on and he kent that it was Julia.

“I did no’ tell the devil to go away, when he brought the flowers. I wanted to and I ken I should have done it, and Aunt Isla is really, really angry with me. But Father, he only wanted to make us happy. I swear to you, Father, he’s never mean to me. I didna ken he’d bring the flowers from the altar!”  
“Now, wait a minute, what makes ye think the devil himself would trouble a lass? Do ye no’ want to tell me what really happened?”  
“Father, he’s no like the Bible says. I swear it. He’s tall and beautiful. Just like a real man. And he disna tell lies. He does nice things, always. When I’m afraid he comes and sits by me on the bed and kisses me. He really does. And he frightens away people who try to hurt me!”  
“Then why do ye say he’s the devil, child? Wouldn’t it be better to say he’s a made-up friend?”  
“No, Father, he’s the devil.” So definite she sounded. “He’s no made up either.” The little voice had become sad, tired.  
“I ken he’s there when no one else does, and then I look and look and then everyone can see him!” The voice broke. “Father, I try no’ to look. I say Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and I try no’ to look. I know it’s a mortal sin. But he’s so sad and he cries without making a sound and I can hear him.”  
“Now, lass, have ye talked to your Grandmother about this?” His voice was calm, but in fact the child’s detailed account had begun to alarm him. This was beyond “excess of imagination” or any such excess he’d ever known.  
“Father, she kens all about him. My Aunt kens too. They call him _the man,_ but Aunt Isla says he’s really the devil. She’s the one who says it’s a sin, like having dirty thoughts.”  
“She’s says it’s filth to look at _the man_ and he can kill me. My mother saw him too and that’s why she died and went to heaven to get away from him.”  
Father Mason was aghast. So you can never shock a priest in the confessional, was that the old saying?  
“Now, wait a minute, lass. Who told you this!”  
“My Aunt Isla, Father,” Julia insisted. “She doesna want me to go to hell like my mother. She told me to pray and drive him away, that I could do it if I only tried, if I said the rosary and did no’ look at him. But Father, she gets so angry with me for letting him come—” Julia stopped. She was crying, though obviously trying to muffle her cries.  
Father Mason was too shocked to speak. Quickly he cleared his throat. “Ye mean yer aunt says this thing is real—”  
“They’ve always kent about him, Father. And anyone can see him when I let him get strong enough. It’s true, Father. Anyone. It’s no’ a mortal sin for other people to see him because it’s my fault. _My fault._ He couldna be seen if didna let it happen. And Father, I just, I just donna understand how the devil could be so kind to me, and could cry so hard when he’s sad and want so badly just to be near me—” The voice broke off into low sobs.  
“Doona cry, Julia!” he’d said, firmly. But this was inconceivable! How could her family fill her head with such superstition?  
The crisp little voice went on suddenly in an anguished rush. “Aunt Isla says it’s a mortal sin even to think of him or think of his name. But Father, he stands right beside me when she’s talking and he says she’s lying, and Father, I ken it’s terrible to say it, but she is lying sometimes, I ken it, even when he’s being quiet. But the worst part is when he comes through and scares her. And she threatens him!” Her voice broke again, the cries barely audible. So small she seemed, so helpless!  
“But all the time, Father, even when I’m all alone, or even at Mass with everybody there, I ken he’s right beside me. I can feel him.”  
“Lass, now think carefully before ye answer. Did your Aunt Isla actually say she saw this thing?”  
“Och, aye, Father.”  
Didn’t he believe her? That’s what she was begging him to do?  
“I’m trying to understand, lass. I want so to understand, but ye must help me. Are ye certain that yer Aunt Isla said she saw him with her own eyes?”  
“Father, she saw him when I was a baby and didna even ken I could make him come. She saw him the day my mother died. He was rocking my cradle. And when my grandmother Margarete was a little girl, he’d come behind her to the supper table. Father, I’ll tell you a terrible secret thing. There’s a drawing in our house of my mother, and he’s in the drawing, standing beside her. I ken about the picture because he got it and gave it to me, though they had it hidden away. He opened the dresser drawer without even touching it, and then he put the drawing in my hand. He does things like that when he’s really strong, when I’ve been with him a long time and been thinking about him all day. That’s when everybody kens he’s in the house, and Aunt Isla meets Grandmother at the door and whispers, _the man_ is here. I just saw him.’ And then Aunt Isla gets so mad. It’s all my fault, Father! And I’m scairt I canna stop him. And they’re all so upset!”  
And what was he to say to her? His temper was boiling. What craziness went on with these women?  
“Lass, listen to me. I want your permission to speak of these things outside the confessional to your Aunt Isla. Will ye give me that permission?”  
“Oh, no Father, please, ye mustn’t!”  
“Lass. I willna, no’ without your permission. But I tell you, I need to speak to your Aunt Isla about these things. Julia, she and I can drive away this thing together.”  
“Father, she’ll never forgive me for telling. Never. It’s a mortal sin to ever tell. Aunt Isla would never forgive me. Even grandmother would be angry. Father, ye canna tell her I told ye about him!” She was becoming hysterical.  
“I can wipe that mortal sin away, child,” he’d explained, “I can give ye absolution. From that moment on, your soul is as white as snow, Julia. Trust in me, Julia. Give me permission to talk to her.”  
For a moment the crying was his only answer. Then, even before he heard her turn the knob of the little wooden door, he knew he’d lost her. Within seconds, he heard her steps running fast down the aisle away from him. 

He had said the wrong thing, made the wrong judgment! And now there was nothing he could do, bound as he was by the seal of the confessional. And this secret had come to him from a troubled child who was not even old enough to commit a mortal sin, or benefit from the sacrament she’d been seeking.

He never forgot that moment, sitting helpless, hearing those steps echoing in the vestibule of the church, the closeness and the heat of the confessional suffocating him. Dear God, what was he going to do? But the torture had only begun for Father Mason. For months after, he’d been truly obsessed—those women, that house … 

But he could not act upon what he had heard any more than he could repeat it. The confessional bound him to secrecy in deed and word. He did not dare even question Sister Bridget Marie, though she volunteered enough information when he happened to see her on the playground. He felt guilty for listening, but he could no’ bring himself to move away.  
“Sure, they’ve put Julia in the Sacred Heart Convent, they have. But do ye think she’ll stay there? They expelled her mother, Antha, when she was but eight years old. And what an unhappy young lass she was. And ye ken it was murder, don’t ye, Father, that Antha’s husband was killed? It’s no wonder Antha went crazy after that. And then to jump from that attic window, poor lass, but what a hellish life it was wi’ her Mother and Aunt picking on her and watching her every move and locking her up at night.”  
Father Mason said his silent prayer for Julia. Let the shadow of evil no’ touch her.

When Father Mason heard that Julia had been sent off to Sacred Heart Convent—he decided he had to call. It was spring, and he had heard some unusual stories about the Thomsons from their neighbors. He needed to know if Julia was well.

Father Mason thought of the recent stories he heard, “The house, the jewels, the purse, it’s all connected. Same with the name Thomson and the way they always keep their name, no matter who they marry. Always Thomson in the end. And ye want to ken the reason? They’re witches, those women! Every one. It’s the God’s truth, I’m tellin’ ye. It come down to them through the generations, the power of witchcraft...” Miss Collins informed him.  
“Witchcraft? I ken ye are superstitious...” he said.  
“Aye, Miss Margarete has a purse full of gold coins that never empties.” Miss Collins continued.  
“She’s no’ the chosen one,” Miss Mary Beth said him, ‘It’s Julia.”  
And what’s the chosen one, Miss Mary Beth?’ He asked her  
“Julia’s seen _the man,_ ” Miss Mary Beth said. “And the one who can see _the man_ when she’s all alone inherits all. My little girl saw the man in the play yard with Julia.”  
Father Mason felt a chill run down his back. It had now been three months since he had heard that child’s unfinished confession, but he had never forgotten a word of it. They call him _the man_ …

Father Mason stood outside the gate of the Thompson home. He had to make himself go up the stone path to the front steps, if for no other reason than because he could think of nothing else.

Miss Margarete welcomed him with a smile. It came as no surprise that she invited him into the long double parlor and the tea was brought in on the silver tray, all quite cordial. Soon after Miss Isla joined them. Through the veil of small talk, he studied these women, trying to fathom what lay behind their restrained smiles.  
“I’m here to discuss how little Julia is doing at the Sacred Heart Convent,” the priest inquired.  
“She is verra well, Father,” Margarete said with a smile.  
“And what about _the man?_ Does she still see him?” Father Mason asked boldly.  
“I dunno ken what you are talking about Father...” Margarete said with a smile.  
“But I ken ye do... all of ye Thomson women ken exactly who I mean. I took Julia’s confession before she left. I have also talked with your neighbors around the village. Ye canna pretend you dinna ken what I am talking about!” He said in frustration.  
But Margarete was glowering at Father Mason. “Seen the man?” She asked coldly. “Now what in heaven’s name could such gibberish mean?”  
“Well now, I should think a good Scotswoman like yourself would ken the answer to that one. Is it a fact that witches call the devil _the man?_ ” He stood and looked at the two women. “Witches, and you ken it! That is what they call ye at the parish! Ye have a legacy of witchcraft, and ye ken it!”  
“It’s a legacy all right,” Margarete said angrily. She rose to her feet. “It’s a legacy of ignorance and jealousy and sickness! Ever hear of those things, Father Mason?”  
Father Mason felt stunned by Margarete Thomson’s anger.  
“I think it is best to see ye on your way,” Margarete said walking him to the door.  
“Goodnight Father, god bless ye,” she said.

On the edge of sleep that night Father Mason remembered the books he’d read in the seminary. The tall man, the dark man, the comely man, the incubus who comes by night … Witches, he said the word as he passed into sleep. _She says he’s the devil, Father. That it’s a sin even to look at him._

He awoke some time before dawn, hearing Margarete’s angry voice. Sickness. Was that the truth? It seemed a crucial piece had been fitted into the puzzle. He could almost see the full picture. A house in which beautiful and high-spirited women had met tragedy. And yet something bothered him still … _They’ve all seen him, Father..._

Father Mason would pass by the Thomson house frequently. He could not stop thinking of the women. A fortnight later he noticed several carts in front of the Thomson’s being packed away with belongings in their house. Were they leaving? Father Thomson looked up in the windows and he saw for a moment a young girl’s face... Julia! She is here.  
Father Mason walked up to the door and was soon greeted by Margarete.  
“Good morning Father Mason! Are ye here to wish us safe travels?” She asked with a smile.  
“Yes, of course... How long are ye traveling?” He asked.  
“Well, we canna be too certain. We are having all our valuables shipped to a relative in France. We shall stay at their pleasure. We will, however, miss Scotland dearly while we are abroad.” She replied.  
“I wish ye a safe journey, and blessings to ye all.” He said as he took his leave. 

Two nights later, there was a terrible thunderstorm. Father Mason was in the stables attending to his horses when he heard a cart traveling down the road. Who would be foolish enough to travel in such weather in the darkness? He spied the cart from his stables and was certain it was the Thomsons! Where were they going? Curiousity took over, and he mounted up his horse to follow them in the storm.

The winds were fierce but Father Mason could make out a cart in the distance. This weather was not fit to travel in but the cart continued on and Father Mason followed behind. He traveled down the roads soon to be flooded as rain pelted him while wondering how the Thomson women would be foolish enough to travel in such conditions. Was it the Thomson’s? It appeared to be, but for all his certainty, he knew he could be wrong. The wind picked up and the cart broke off from the road and diverged into the forest. Father Mason pushed his horse and was soon behind the cart. A loud crack of thunder cut through the sky, and the two horses pulling the cart became spooked and bolted. 

Father Mason heard the screams and drove his horse after the cart coming along side it and he managed to grab one of the reigns to slow the speed of the horses. The cart finally came to a halt and Father Mason found himself once more with the Thompson women.  
“What in heaven’s name are ye women thinkin’ traveling in this weather with a wee lass! Ye canna control yer horses or yer cart!” He yelled angrily after noticing Julia’s frightened pale face.  
“We thank ye Father Mason, but we have no choice,” Margarete replied. “We are almost to our destination. We thank ye to let us be on our way.” She said firmly.  
Margarete took the reigns and continued ahead through the forest and up to a clearing the the trees.  
Father Mason continued to follow determined to see his parishners to safety.  
In the clearing ahead, Margarete got out of the cart with little Julia. Aunt Isla was about to step out of the cart too, when thunder cracked again in the sky. The horses got spooked and began to gallop pulling the cart behind them with Isla. Father Mason gave chase as the horses ran through the forest, until the cart crashed into a tree. Isla’s body was thrown several feet away on the muddy ground. Father Mason quickly dismounted his horse to assist the young woman, but it was too late. Her neck was broken. He looked up to see Margarete in the distance holding Julia. She saw the body of her sister and turned and ran towards a clearing in the trees.  
“Wait!” Father Mason yelled. The wind picked up to a ferocious speed. He swore he could hear someone or something howling. He ran after them through the trees until he came to a clearing in the woods. Father Mason found himself in a circle of large stones. The wind has suddenly died down and so did the rain.  
He looked around but couldn’t find Margarete or Julia. They were gone. Father Mason rubbed his eyes as he noticed a man touching one of the large stones.  
“Who are you?” Father Mason called out as he started to walk toward the man. An instant later _the man_ was gone.


	3. Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank meets a young patient at a psychiatric hospital... Claire

_Oxford England 1938_

Dr. Frank Randall was checking up on his patient Claire. She was the lovely girl committed to the Warneford Psychiatric Hospital in Oxford where he had residency. For a few minutes he just observed her blank stare. She was like a beautiful waxed dummy infused with life. Every time he got near her he heard, and felt, a strange buzzing sound.... it wasn’t something he could point out. No, he couldn’t ask another doctor, “Do you hear that buzzing sound?” Yet Frank still heard it. He was also noticing how frequently he was feeling short bouts of anxiety lately.

Claire. She was the biggest surprise when he first took residency at the hospital 2 years ago. She was one of the youngest patients to be committed as she was just 17 years old. Frank was intrigued. She was barely a woman. But in the 2 years that had passed, he had witnessed not a single response from her. Yet she haunted him. It started slowly at first. Frank didn’t think he’d ever seen such a lovely girl. He watched her grow, subtlety change to become more woman than child now. A lovely woman with drool slipping down her chin. Vacant stare. Unresponsive to any stimuli. A wax figure. A living unresponsive doll.

Frank remembered when he first met her. Working under direct supervision with her doctor, he became immediately involved in clinical interviewing, history gathering, assessments and disposition planning. She was an interesting case indeed. She had suffered some strange flu or disease on a trip to Mexico which left her delirious and she became a danger to herself. Upon returning to England, Claire’s governess, who raised her since infancy, died suddenly in her presence. Since that day, her Uncle was unable to stop her torment. After little more than a year of failed treatments, Claire’s uncle and guardian had no choice but to send her here. Her fits were brutal and she caused herself injury and bodily harm on many occasions. Her Uncle feared if given the chance, she might commit suicide. She was also known to physically attack her nurses. Protecting Claire from herself was a full time job indeed.

Yet Frank let himself indulge in fantasies. It started one day almost a year ago when he was attending her. Frank was preparing her daily shot. He looked at her. So innocent. Both adult and child at the same time. Her face was still beautiful even though it was lifeless. Frank was reminded again why he chose medicine. He could cure her, wake her up. There could be a cure for the schizophrenics, paranoids, and the catatonics. This was the 20th century! Frank had sent for a copy of her earlier records within the first month of meeting her. Nobody had objected. There were multiple diagnoses from dozens of other physicians, vague and contradictory diagnoses—mania, paranoia, complete exhaustion, delusions, psychotic break, depression, attempted suicide. It all went back to the girl’s trip to Mexico apparently. Nothing before. 

Someone had seen her for “dementia” just before her uncle brought her to Warenford for full time care. What were the specifics behind these abstractions? Somewhere in the mountain of scribble he found that she had suffered “severe paranoia.” Is that why they had given her shock treatments in one place and now shots in another? What had she done to the nurses who over and over again quit on account of “physical attacks”? 

Thorazine had been prescribed to “prevent mania.” Thorazine. What if he didn’t give her the shot? What kind of life is she capable of? She is so young. This was no life at all. 

He was looking at her with her prescribed dosage prepared in his hand when he suddenly had a vision of her... Claire was running.... running across the grass laughing, lifting the hem of her skirt up, when she tripped and fell rolling into the grass. The sound of laughter was infectious. Frank smiled and then found himself next to her breathless... She was lying in the grass smiling at him. She looked so beautiful. He slowly leaned his head down and Claire’s lips parted as they met his in a kiss. 

A sharp inhale brought Frank back into the present moment. He then noticed Claire was siting across the room from him but looking directly into his eyes. It was as if she knew he was daydreaming of them running in that field together and kissing. Shocked, Frank looked away, cleared his throat, and then looked back at Claire. She was gazing straight ahead again at nothing in particular. All recognition gone. Did that just happen? Did she have a moment of awareness? Frank suddenly didn’t know if it was his imagination or if she had made eye contact with him. With a sigh he administered the prescribed shot and then left her room.

From that moment on, Frank wondered if she knew when he entered her room? Could she feel his gaze upon her? Could she hear him speak to her? Did she know she was constantly in his thoughts? How would anyone know the state of her true self when the medication has gone on for so long? Even if the shots were stopped it would be months until the effects had fully worn off. That much Thorazine? Could there be a mistake? The levels used on Claire now might kill another patient. A patient had to build up to the dosage she was currently receiving. If only he could know... would it be possible to wake her, and cure her?

Frank began his own investigation. He questioned all of her nurses. “Is there ever the slightest change in her? Does she ever speak? Even a single word?” But there was never any change. Frank noticed every time he visited her, she always had a fresh vase a flowers.  
“Who brings her flowers everyday?” Frank asked a nurse one day.  
“Well, I don’t know, but she does have new flowers everyday.” The nurse replied.  
“How many visitors does she have?” He asked.  
“I don’t know Doctor,” the nurse replied. “I have occasionally seen a man visiting her.”  
“A man? What man?” Frank asked feeling suddenly jealous. _Did you have a lover, Claire?_  
“I don’t know who he is, Doctor, but I’ve seen him in her room sometimes, standing beside her and whispering in her ear.”  
“Is it a member of her family?” Frank asked.  
“I don’t know Doctor, her only kin is listed as Mr. Beauchamp. He is not listed as a relative.”  
“And what does he look like?” He asked. His curiosity was piqued.  
“Oh... he’s tall, dark, and handsome to be sure, Doctor,” the nurse said with a smile as she left the room.  
Frank walked over to the flowers and stopped for a moment to take in their scent. _‘Who is your mysterious visitor Claire?’_ he thought to himself feeling jealous once again.

At night Frank began to have dreams about Claire. In his dreams he saw her cured, revitalized and walking swiftly down a city street, her hair blowing in the wind. Now and then when he woke up from such a dream, he found himself wondering if she hadn’t in fact died. That was the more likely thing.

One day as he was treating her her, he experienced some sort of surreal phenomena. His body became paralyzed and he could not move. Frozen, his consciousness out of his own body, he saw a vision of himself with Claire. She was looking at him knowingly, as if she was listening to his thoughts. She smiled at him and gave him a kiss and then moved her head back as she looked him in the eye.  
“Please, help me.” she whispered without moving her lips. Suddenly everything went black as he fainted. 

He awoke to a nurse hovering over him in Claire’s room. Frank was embarrassed but he did not forget his hallucination. A glimpse of the future? No, he didn’t believe in any of that sort of nonsense. He is a doctor about to administer medication to a patient. He was feeling guilt about her treatment and it’s starting to take a toll on his mental health. He could stop the injections he rationalized. He left her room without giving her the medication. Frank was in anguish. Somebody had to do something for this poor girl. Time will tell if she can be cured. If she is in the same manic state when the drugs wore off, he could always start the treatment again.


	4. Julia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire’s mother, Julia, escapes the evil spirit which has haunted her as a child that has now taken a human form....

Julia learned as a child that her clan possessed magical powers. When she was just 6 years old, she traveled through time with her Grandmother to escape an evil man. They traveled 100 years into the future to the early 18th century in Scotland. It was a country divided and in some parts very self contained. Having no clan in this time, Julia and her Grandmother traveled as poor beggars and made their way to the more densely populated towns England. In the outskirts of Cumberland, or the Lake District, luck was on her side. Julia’s Grandmother, Margarete, assisted a woman she met in a small village. Her son was ill and the local doctor was bleeding him too much which further weakened his condition. Margarete assisted the woman and saw to the boy’s full recovery. The woman worked as a maid at the nearby Kendal estates and, having pity on their condition and also to express gratitude, recommended her for a job as a maid. Kendal was truly picturesque bordering the small towns that fringe the lake and mountains. They lived on the vast estate happily for many years.

Margarete Thomson had strange and unusual abilities. She infiltrated the most wealthy and elite circles of all of England and Scotland. Soon, she wed a wealthy Scottish nobleman and they returned to Scotland with their own vast estate to look after. Julia was no longer a servant. 

When Julia was just 18 years old, she met Ronan MacKenzie. It was love at first sight. Although Margarete originally objected to the match, she eventually contented for them to get married. After their marriage, they left to live in the Highlands at Castle Leoch, who’s laird was a distant cousin. There, Ronan trained with the other MacKenzie warriors, while Julia helped the castle healer in his surgery. After a few years, Ronan purchased his own lands and Julia was the mistress of her own household.

One morning when Julia woke up, she found flowers in her room. Immediately, she panicked. She went to throw them outside.  
“What are you doing, my love?” Ronan asked her.  
“I’m getting rid of the flowers!” Julia said in a panick.  
“Ye doona care for flowers?” He asked.  
“I doona care for the spirit that brought them,” she replied. _The man is back,_ she thought.  
“I willna bring ye flowers anymore then,” Ronan said.  
“Oh... my love... I’m sorry! I didna ken it was from you!” Julia exclaimed.  
Ronan shook his head. “Who did ye think it was from?” He asked.  
“I doona ken!” Julia cried. “I’m sorry... I love the flowers. Are they for the new bairn I carry? Ye ken she will be a girl... we shall call her Claire. She will be the light.  
Ronan stood and kissed his wife. He was so pleased to have a daughter. “Claire is a fine name. She will be the light indeed.”

Julia had an affinity to foraging in the woods. She would gather her own herbs and vegetables. One afternoon, while deep in the forest, she came upon some English troops. They circled her quickly and Julia knew she was in trouble.  
“Madam... what are you doing here in these woods?” The Captain asked.  
“I’m just foraging for herbs. Who are you?” She asked.  
“I’m Jonathan Randall, Esquire, Captain of His Majesty’s Ninth Dragoons.” He said.  
“Julia MacKenzie. Pleasure to meet you. Now, I must attend to my tasks”  
“You’re alone out here? No protection?” Randall asked.  
“I didna realize I needed protection,” Julia replied. Just then, Julia looked around at the lascivious looks of the soldiers.  
She saw Captain Randall and his four soldiers circling around her and she became afraid.  
“What do ye mean to do wi’ me?” She asked preparing to run.  
A large gust of wind flew through the trees and Julia shut her eyes as the dirt and leaves flew in her face. When the wind died down, Julia opened her eyes to find the captain’s men had all fallen to the ground with twisted necks. Julia turned and ran towards home without stopping or looking back.

Julia entered her cottage and found the entire front room was covered with newly cut flowers. _The man is here! He had come for her..._ she thought. The man helped her escape the English, but she needed to move fast to escape him. She quickly packed a bag to leave when she heard a commotion outside. It was Captain Randall and her husband, Ronan! Her husband had just come home!  
Julia left out of the back door and mounted her horse just as Captain Randall killed her husband. It was an unfair fight. Ronan was unarmed when Randall attacked without warning. Julia rode her horse like the devil through the forest hoping she could flee the Dragoon.

Randall was patrolling for his fugitive through the darkened forest when heard a growl and saw before him a black wolf. The animal looked wild and angry and seemed to have glowing red eyes. He stood still as to not threaten the animal as it continued to stare at him.... snarling. More sounds in the forest suddenly grabbed his attention. The wolf turned and started running after the sounds and Randall could see the faint figure of a woman running. The woman did not escape him after all. _The witch._ Randall was determined to find the woman that had killed his men. He followed the sounds on horseback through the woods but he did not see the woman or the wolf again. Every noise he heard seemed to come from nothing. Randall continued to follow the sounds anyway. With anger and frustration, he gave chase throughout the woods.  
After more than an hour of searching, Randall came upon a hill of stones.... a big cluster with what looked like an entrance to a cave.  
_Someone is hiding here,_ He thought.  
Once again Randall heard an animal growl and saw the black wolf. Randall unsheathed his sword in preparation for the mad wolf to attack. Suddenly, the most beautiful woman appeared before him in the nude. Randall felt as if he was awake in a dream, staring at this magnificent woman, Venus herself, who then slowly turned and walked down the path and into the dark cave. In a trance, Randall dismounted his horse and followed her into the darkness... A loud rumble echoed through the cave followed by the piercing screams of Jonathan Randall. Animals scurried through the woods and birds emptied the trees as his tortured screams rippled throughout the surrounding forest.  
  
The following morning Jonathan Randall awoke lying in the heather beside a small stream. A few of his men had found him lying in the woods and were looking down at him. He stood up admiring his new body and thought how good it was to be human again. Julia was gone, but he knew she couldn’t have gotten far. Randall felt a surge of power. He felt completely invigorated. He was reborn. He was human again, and completely invincible. He controlled this body now and all he needed now was Julia.

Randall prepared his men for the capture of the fugitive. He gave instructions that any and all women traveling would be detained and interviewed. He then sent a new batch of troops north to investigate the farm. Julia would be captured and soon be at his mercy... He would finally have her at last.  
It was late in the evening when the carriage approached in the direction of Inverness. Randall’s soldiers thoroughly checked the cart and questioned the driver. All seemed to be in order. The cart was empty. The soldiers let the driver pass and the horse and cart continued their journey. Randall was fantasizing about Julia when he approached his men letting a cart pass on the road.  
“Halt that Cart!” Randall shouted as he approached his guard. His men froze and looked at him. “Do you have some confusion over your present duties?”  
“No, sir! The cart was empty. There is only a single driver...” a soldier explained.  
“Enough! I will inspect it.” Randall barked.  
The Roadcoats halted the cart once more as the lone driver sat silently in fear for his life. Randall approached the cart and gave it a thorough inspection. He could smell her. _Julia._ He knew at once she had been a passenger in the cart.  
“Interrogate the driver! Find out where he took the woman! Then kill him!” Randall ordered.  
The wind suddenly changed, and Randall noticed unusual movement within the trees. He dismounted his horse and silently followed the movements through the forest.  
The night was dark, but the moonlight provided enough light that he could see a shadowy figure darting through the trees in the distance. Randal followed lone traveler but kept enough distance not to be detected. This meant tracking his prey with footsteps and evidence alone. He could not risk the possibility of early detection...  
He crept upon the traveler climbing up the small hill to a circle of large stones. In that moment, the clouds parted and moonlight illuminated all. A snap of a branch echoed through the air and Randall saw the figure pause and turn to look him in they eye.  
Randall saw his fugitive in the moonlight. “Julia” he growled.  
The next moment she turned and was running......  
“No! You cannot escape me!” he yelled as he broke forth and gave chase after her. When she was within his reach, Randall tripped her and she quickly fell to the ground. He then turned her on her back so she faced up at him.  
“Remember me, milady?” Jonathan sneered.  
Julia looked up at him confused and began to struggle against him. Randall pinned her to the ground and began lifting up her skirt exposing her bare legs.  
“No point in wasting time, is there... Julia?” Randall growled as he unfastened his breeches.  
Julia’s eyes widened as she felt his cold hands upon her legs.  
“You!” She gasped. “It canna be! You aren’t human!”  
Randall laughed. “On the contrary... as you can see I’m in the flesh, My Lady!”  
He grabbed her hips and noticed the swelling of her belly.  
“Don’t tell me you’re breeding!” Randall exclaimed with disgust. “That will not do at all... very soon you will belong to me... and be my wife!” he said angrily as he stood up. Randall grabbed Julia’s arms and forcibly pulled her up to stand. He looked at Julia in the eye. “You’ll be a guest at Wentworth Prison!” Randall cupped Julia’s breast. “You will serve me in any manner I wish,” he added with a psychotic grin. He tugged at her arm and began to lead her away from the stones.  
Randall’s smile faded as his body suddenly felt heavy and his limbs were like dead weight. He could not move his extremities any more than he could lift a giant boulder. Randall was once again paralyzed. Frantically, his eyes darted around him as he struggled to move. ’Sleep’ he heard somewhere in his mind. Julia’s hand was touching his face. A fog muddled his senses and he was losing consciousness. This time he would remember. Although he was immobile, with sheer willpower he wouldn’t allow his eyes to close. He willed himself to keep his awareness.  
Julia removed herself from him grip and turned to walk away from him. Jonathan managed to move just one arm and grabbed her hand tightly.  
“Bodysnatcher!” Julia hissed as she pulled her hand from his tight grip and walked towards the stones.  
Randall heard a loud buzzing sound and then Julia was gone. She disappeared into the stones... just as she had years ago with her Grandmother. He finally allowed his eyes to close as he fell to the ground and oblivion sunk in....  
The following morning Jonathan Randall awoke just as he had the previous morning. A few of his men had found him lying on the turf and were looking down at him. Randall got up and set his men upon their duties. As he remembered all the previous events of the night, he surveyed the area. He looked down at his hand and saw Julia’s wedding ring still in his palm. The gold band reflected perfectly in the sun. Jonathan smiled. Once again he was filled with power... and darkness. He placed the ring around his pinky finger. It was only ring but it was all he needed. ‘I will bring her back. With this ring she will stand before me right here and soon’. Randall thought and enchanted the wedding ring. He instructed his men to set up camp in the area and to find him some women. The darkness within was him was growing and he was in need of a diversion.


	5. Fate of a woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire marries Frank. Her wedding ring has been passed down from Frank’s family for hundreds of years.

“What’s the name of that great-great-great-great-grandfather of yours again?” Claire asked. “The one that mucked about here during one of the Risings? I can’t remember if it was Willy or Walter.”  
“Actually, it was Jonathan.” Frank took Claire’s complete disinterest in family history placidly, but always seized the slightest excuse to tell all facts known to date about the early Randalls and their connections.

Frank was becoming a regular Sunday dinner guest at Q’s home. Frank’s passion for genealogy and history made him fast friends with Quentin Beauchamp. They spent many nights discussing history over a dram. Claire looked at the men thoroughly amused. She couldn’t help but tease Frank and pretend interest into his family history. She was desperately trying to forget that she was once his patient.

After her recovery and release from the psychiatric hospital, Claire was still trying to figure her way out in the world. She was still young but she did not trust her miraculous recovery entirely and her Uncle Lamb did not either. She could not remember much at all of her years as a patient at Warenford Psychiatric Hospital. She also could not remember the violent incidents prior to her hospitalization. She could tell by the secret whispers between Frank and her Uncle that they were always on guard for the appearance new symptoms as well. They behaved as if her mental affliction could resurface anytime.

Frank would frequently ask Claire questions. “Have you had any dreams lately?”  
Claire thought about the nightmare she had of a stranger covered in blood. “I suppose I have though I cannot remember at the moment. I will try to remember if it will help you..”  
“What makes you think I need help?” Frank asked.  
“Well, people who need help themselves are usually interested in helping others” Claire replied.  
Frank simply smiled.

Claire was determined never to be hospitalized again. She occasionally still had nightmares but kept them to herself. She no longer let things frighten her as they once had. The looks Frank had been giving her recently led her to believe he had more interest in her than a doctor’s concern. And Claire wondered? What would it be like to kiss him? She had never been kissed.

It was after a Sunday dinner that she found herself alone with Frank. Claire stepped outside to get a bit of fresh air and Frank had joined her.  
She looked up to the sky. “Do you know,” she said, “that it takes thousands and thousands of years for the light of those stars to reach us? In fact, some of the stars we see may be dead by now, but we won’t know it, because we still see the light.”  
“Is that so? How interesting. That is not something they teach in medical school.” Frank moved closer and looked into her eyes. “I have a gift for you” he said and smiled as he handed her the gift beautifully wrapped in paper.  
Claire smiled and carefully opened the gift not wanting to shred the beautiful wrapping and found a collection of poems by Elizabeth Browning.  
“Oh Frank, thank you so much”. He remembered her favorite poet.  
Frank moved closer to Claire. “I have more surprises for you Claire, but you’ll have to wait a little bit longer for them though.”  
Claire looked up into his eyes. He was staring intently and his gaze moved to her lips. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him.

He took his hand in hers and lifted her chin and then Frank slowly descended upon her lips. His kiss was gentle and soft and after a moment of shock, Claire began to relax. She opened her mouth slightly and Frank deepened the kiss. Claire felt her heart flutter in her chest when they were suddenly interrupted by Uncle Lamb. He did not see what he was interrupting as he joined them in the dark outside. Claire jumped away from Frank nervously.  
“Uncle Lamb! We were just gazing at the stars.”  
“It’s a very fine evening for that”, Q replied. “I think that is the planet Venus right there”.  
“It’s getting late, I think it’s time for bed”, Claire said as she started to move towards the door. Frank grabbed her hand.  
“Claire, have dinner with me next week”.  
“Dinner next week? We always have dinner, you come over every Sunday”.  
“No”, he said “I would like to take you somewhere special for dinner. If your Uncle doesn’t disapprove that is” and he looked over to Claire’s Uncle.  
“Claire is old enough and well enough now to make her own decisions” Q replied while lighting up a cigar.  
Being put on the spot was a bit uncomfortable, but Claire was curious and agreed. “Ok then, I shall join you next week”. She went to bed feeling butterflies in her stomach. With so much excitement, Claire could not sleep at all. She just kept replaying the kiss in her head. Her first kiss! 

Later on, she made her way downstairs for a snack, a bit of food would help her finally get some sleep. Surprisingly, her uncle was still awake.  
“Claire, is that you?” He called out.  
“Yes uncle, you’re still up?” She asked.  
“And so are you” he said.  
“I think I need a snack, I find myself unable to sleep” she said.  
“I think there is more to it than that. Come sit. Have a dram with me. You seem different tonight. What is going on with Frank? “ He asked.  
Claire sat down and shifted uncomfortably. She never thought she would be having this conversation with her uncle. But she did need someone to talk to about this. Claire smiled nervously “Frank kissed me tonight before you came outside”.  
Uncle lamb sighed and nodded. “And how do you feel about that?” He asked.  
Claire laughed nervously. “Well, I’ve never kissed anyone before, it was.... unusual. Is it not strange he was once my doctor?”  
Her uncle nodded. They had been through a lot in the hospital. Frank had seen it all. Yet Q knew how fond Frank was of Claire. He was almost sure that Frank was in love with Claire, which might not be a bad thing.  
“Well, yes, I understand those feelings. But love doesn’t come often or easily. It’s awkward that Frank was your doctor, but look at the bright side, you don’t have to explain anything to him. He’s already accepted you. If you share the same feelings for the man, I approve of the match. Also, he can assure your wellbeing in the future.”  
Claire smiled. She wasn’t entirely sure of her feelings but it felt good to hear that her Uncle approved. “Well, I will accept his dinner invitation and we shall see. He also gave me a gift tonight, a book of poetry, he’s incredibly thoughtful. I enjoy spending time with him, but I sometimes still feel like his patient.”  
Uncle Lamb nodded and handed her a drink. “Take this, things will work out the way they are supposed to. I trust your judgement and you have always been such a strong and sweet girl. I have no doubts about you making the right decision. Just don’t let fear control you. You have nothing to fear now.”  
Claire smiled and toasted with her uncle before she went back to bed. She was much more relaxed and soon fell into dreams of soft kisses and warm sunshine.

Claire did go to dinner with Frank the following weekend and she had a wonderful evening with him. During the next two months she was spending at least one night a week with Frank. She kissed him often and was beginning to rely on him emotionally.

One night, on their way meet Frank’s parents for dinner, they passed a justice of the peace. Frank proposed they get married. Claire was shocked. This was an important evening, she was going to meet Frank’s parents for the first time.   
“But what about your parents? Aren’t we going to be late?” She asked.  
“Let them wait.... I will introduce you as Mrs. Randall instead of Ms. Beauchamp” he replied. Frank looked very mischievous and playful.  
Claire couldn’t resist. Although she was only 18 years old, she felt ready to begin a life with Frank. She walked into the justice of the peace with him and they were married less than an hour later. What the future held was a mystery, but one thing Claire was certain of... Frank adored her. He gave her a wedding band that had been in his family for hundreds of years.  
“This ring has been handed down through my family for 200 years,” Frank told her.  
Claire was honored. When she put the gold band on and said her vows, she knew this was where she was supposed to be. 


	6. The Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire instinctively learns to use her healing power, without realizing she has any powers. She also makes a friend.

The first month marriage, Frank and Claire had just settled into a temporary flat when the outbreak of war had sent Frank to Officers Training and the Intelligence Unit at M16. Claire decided to join nurses training as the urgency of mobilizing the entire population made the role of women vital to the war effort. She spent the next two years as a Royal Army Nurse. During the war years, she lived in the nurses’ quarters, first at field station in France, then later at Pembroke Hospital.

For Claire, healing patients had become positively addictive over these years. Claire discovered that she thrived on crisis. She needed it. The more dire the situation, the more dedicated she became to healing. She developed a reputation of being able to heal impossible conditions. When a patient was under her care, no matter what the prognosis, they tended to recover and not succumb to their injuries. 

“You’re looking for a miracle!” the supervisor in Emergency Medical had said to her at six this evening, contemptuously, glaze-eyed with exhaustion.  
“Wheel this man over against the wall, and save your juices for somebody you can do something for!”  
“I want nothing but miracles,” Claire had answered. “We’re going to get the glass and dirt out of his chest, and then we’ll take it from there.”

There was no way to tell him that when she had placed her hands on the man’s shoulders, she had “listened” with her diagnostic sense to a thousand little signals; and they had told her, infallibly, that the man could live. She knew what the prognosis would be when she placed her hands upon the man. Plenty of living cells, unharmed, functioning, once she’d cleaned the dirt and blood away from it, and cauterized the tiny ruptured vessels so that the bleeding would stop. He would live.

It was the same infallible sense she’d had when successfully treating other patients. Ever since she became a nurse, she discovered this diagnositic sense, if you could call it that, could save patient’s lives. She was continuously in demand by other doctors and patients alike. Her professional reputation as a nurse soon grew and was rarely questioned by anyone who worked with her for any length of time. Personal opinions of Claire were a different matter. Her aloof manner and, at times, seemingly bizarre behavior did not make her many friends among her coworkers.

Unfortunately, soon after she began working at Pembroke Hospital, she had a public screaming fit that terrified a number of nurses already on staff. The new recruits were gathered for a fitting of new hospital uniforms. When Claire was measured against her head, she screamed violently and startled all the other nurses. Claire had experienced a vivid memory of the many painful Electroconvulsive therapy treatments she received as a teenager at Warenford Hospital. Claire’s biggest fear was mistreatment confined in a hospital again. She knew that the doctors and nurses didn’t follow reason at all in a psychiatric hospital. The drugs she was given left her helpless... until she Met Frank. In turn, Claire became a very caring nurse who worked tirelessly to see that no patient ever received mistreatment. 

As Claire’s professional reputation continued to grow, so did her contrarians. Her beauty, and popularity among the patients, combined with her peculiar behavior and outbursts, inspired jealousy and animosity in more than a few nurses.  
“You’re a doctor’s whore now, aren’t you! Claire Randall.... a doctor’s whore...” a unfamiliar nurse, Dottie, hissed. She was not the first nurse to accuse Claire of gaining professional favoritism through disreputable means. Two days later, the nurse mysteriously became ill. In previous months, Claire had helped heal the son of the head cook in the kitchens when nobody else would make time for her. After Dottie had slandered Claire publicly, the nurse came down with a mysterious illness that had left her confined to her room and particularly the bathroom. Eventually Claire had to beg the cook to stop tainting the woman’s food. Although diarrhea can seem harmless in itself, after two weeks, the woman was in danger of dying from dehydration. Claire didn’t want that on her conscience, especially over petty jealousy and insults. After Dottie’s recovery, nobody else dared speak out against Claire. But Claire knew those colleagues still held contempt for her just the same.

Claire’s best memories while being a nurse at Pembroke were with her roommate Mary Hawkins. From the first moment Claire met Mary, she liked her. She was so open, friendly and full of life that she reminded Claire of how she used to be before her hospitalization. Claire had sometimes wished for that kind of ignorance—not to know when people envied you, or disliked you. Not to know that many people lied all the time. The two women quickly became confidants; Mary was the first person Claire had ever considered a true friend. All her life Claire has been a solitary person, a good listener, but invariably colder than those around her. That special sense, the one that aided her so as a nurse, had always made her too keenly aware of what others truly felt. She knew that many of the nurses had a critical dislike of her.

Mary was a person of very democratic views. She was very bold and mischievous in her speech. “Oppression, do you hate it? It angers me that there are those with so much and others with so little,” she exclaimed.  
“It’s a shame that Germany has taken France,” Claire replied.  
“But we did not lose, Britain will never be taken!” Mary said. “We just haven’t won yet.”  
Mary could always brighten her mood. When she found Claire crying after she lost a patient, Mary grabbed her and said “Come, lets go to our beds now and make fun of people.” Claire followed her and they retired to their room and talked into the night. Mary informed Claire of all the latest hospital gossip. Claire giggled in dark listening to Mary’s stories and until they both found sleep. 

Another night, Claire was restless and got up out of her bed. She tripped walking in the dark and bumped into a table knocking some books to the ground.  
“Claire, if you need to go to the bathroom, wait until it is light.” Mary croaked  
“Why?” Claire asked.  
“It is not safe,” Mary replied as she rolled over in her bed.  
Claire left the room and went to the bathroom anyway. In the dark, Claire started to become frightened. She locked herself in the bathroom. Outside the bathroom she heard footsteps and became nervous. She suddenly heard knocks at the door. She did not move or even breathe and was relieved when she heard Mary’s voice. Claire unlocked the door and let her in.  
“Claire!” Mary exclaimed. “You are too naive. You mustn’t walk alone outside our room at night”.  
Claire had no way to explain to Mary that she could usually sense when danger was near.  
“You are a great beauty Claire, it doesn’t matter that you are married, you turn men’s heads. The worst will be the gentlemen. Because they think they’re entitled to anything they want. They’ll promise you things. They’ll say “I’ll do whatever you want”. But you must be very careful. You must never do anything for them Claire. Not one single thing. Not even as a friend.” Mary said.  
“And why is that?” Claire asked.  
“Because men are liars by nature. They’ll say anything to get what they want out of you,” Mary replied.  
“You’re right... most men are liars,” Claire whispered. She knew all too well when someone was lying to her. Like her husband, Frank, for example. It had been almost 2 years since she had seen him. He wouldn’t be coming for a visit during the holidays. He had given her several pitiful excuses. Claire knew he simply rather not visit.

Two weeks later the hospital got a new head surgeon. Claire was in the middle of cleaning sheets with Mary when she first met him. Tom Christie walked in and cheerfully said “Hello Mary!”  
Mary looked up and bowed her head “How nice to see you again doctor.”  
“Pardon my interruption, I just wanted to introduce myself to the young lady. She seems to be a favorite among the patients.” He looked at Claire “I’m Tom Christie, the new chief surgeon.  
“Pleased to meet you doctor, I’m Claire Randall.”  
“And have you been making Claire feel at home here Mary?” He asked.  
“I certainly have doctor,” Mary replied.  
“I’m sure you have,” he said. “Nobody can make a person feel quite at home as Mary can. I look forward to working with you, Claire! Carry on ladies,” he said as he walked out of the door.  
“Mary!” Claire half whispered and half shouted, “How do you know him?”  
Mary shrugged. “He was a resident here before, and I guess now he’s been stationed here again. I would avoid being alone with him” Mary said with her head down. She wouldn’t look Claire in the eye.  
“Well, he’s very handsome. I’m quite sure he gets plenty attention from the single female staff. I’m sure he has no need to bother with anyone who’s married” Claire replied.

That winter, when the snow had blanketed the ground, several of the staff got ill. Tom Christie, their chief surgeon, was one of the many that caught the flu. Mary and Claire worked tirelessly tending not only to the hospital patients but the hospital’s sick staff. Mary often insisted on bringing Doctor Christie his meals and she doted over him so much, she scarcely saw another patient. Mary also was coming to bed very late at night. It was over these weeks that Claire’s noticed a change in Mary. She didn’t smile or talk to Claire like she used to. It also seemed as if Mary was going out of her way to avoid Claire.

Claire missed talking to Mary. One night after her shift, she saw Mary headed to their room. Mary was walking outside toward the dorms very fast, and Claire yelled her name while running after her in the snow.  
“Mary slow down!” she yelled. But Mary walked even faster.  
“I’m in a hurry”, Mary said so Claire had to run to catch up to her.  
“What the bloody hell, Mary?” Claire asked catching her breath. She was very annoyed.  
Mary approached the doorway, “Be careful when passing through. I heard of a woman who was killed by an icicle once. It went right through her like a skewer.”  
Claire looked up to see the icicles hanging off the side of the building. She then looked at Mary and rolled her eyes. “What is going on?” She demanded. Claire followed her inside. They both went into the room they shared and closed the door. “Where were you last night? You missed our nightly gossip.” She said.  
“I’m tired Claire, I must go right to sleep.” Mary said while climbing into her bed.  
“Are you in trouble Mary?” Claire asked. But Mary did not reply. She just turned off the lights and left Claire wondering.

The next morning, Claire woke up early and sat in the room waiting for Mary to wake up. She wouldn’t be put off so easily.  
Mary woke up some time later to a very nervous Claire sitting beside her. “Claire, what are you doing sitting there?” She asked.  
“I’m waiting to talk to you. You haven’t been yourself lately and you’re my dearest friend. I want to know what the bloody problem is.” Claire said firmly.  
Mary sat up in bed sharply. With a frown she loudly stated “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas, CLAIRE!”  
Claire stared back as Mary’s face darkened again. She watched silently as Mary grabbed her stomach and leaned over the side of her bed to vomit. “Claire! It’s not what you think!” Mary cried out after the nauseas had passed.  
“How do you know what I think?” Claire asked.  
“You mustn’t tell anyone!” She begged.  
“Oh Mary, you’re my dearest friend. I will not tell a soul, but I also think you need to confide in someone.”

Mary then out a sob and Claire rushed over to her. She hugged Mary close and tried to give her every bit of comfort she could.  
“He promised to marry me,” Mary whispered. “And he gave me a ring and for once I wanted to believe him. I thought he wasn’t like other men. But now he’s gone back on his promise and he won’t even speak to me!”  
“Who is this bastard?” Claire asked.  
“I cannot say. But as soon as anyone finds out about this, I know I’ll be turned away from here. I’ll have to go to the streets and find a way to feed myself and my baby. That kind of life will be the end of me.”  
“No, that won’t happen,” Claire cried. “You must tell me who it is. He cannot get away with this!”  
“Yes, he can. He’s running this hospital Claire. He can ruin my reputation.” Mary cried.  
Claire’s eyes widened.... “No! It can be him,” she said slowly.  
“Yes, it’s Doctor Christie’s baby!” Mary sobbed.


	7. To Kill At Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire tries to help a friend, but ends up in danger and discovers she has another talent besides healing. She also gets a visit from someone from the past.

Claire was walking through the nurse’s dorms to her room when she noticed the hallways seemed much darker. Someone obviously forgot to put in new light bulbs. She opened the door to her room and it was dark. She couldn’t find the light, but heard the noises... a small groaning. There, in the shadows, was Mary, lying on her bed with her clothing and bedsheets soaking in blood. It was everywhere. Claire rushed to her, she was cold and very dead. Someone had murdered her. Claire screamed! 

She was shaken awake by Mary. Claire looked at her and jumped up and hugged her.  
“I just had a terrible nightmare about you Mary! How are you feeling today? Are you well?” Claire asked with concern.  
“I’m as well as I can be. You don’t have to worry about me Claire. A nightmare doesn’t mean anything. I will be fine. More than fine very soon!” She said.  
“Oh that is so wonderful to hear! I knew you could appeal to Dr. Christie’s better nature. So he will wed you now as promised?” Claire asked.  
The way Mary looked at her made Claire suddenly frightened.  
“There is this doctor...” Mary began.  
“No! Mary you cannot!” Claire cried. “That’s dangerous!” She thought of her nightmare.  
“I did try to talk to Tom. I cried to him. He gave me £20! That’s all! That is what his child is worth to him!” She yelled. Mary paced the room. “He said he didn’t even think the child was his since I’ve been so obliging with him. He asked if I’ve been the same with the other doctors! He said if I threaten him with a scandal he will deny it and I will ruin whatever reputation I have left.”  
“That bloody bastard!” Claire hissed. She was totally disgusted by his behavior. Mary was the best friend she had, and she couldn’t help but feel hatred for Dr. Christie now.  
“Claire I need your help.” Mary pleaded.  
“I will do anything to help Mary.” She replied with worry.  
“I need to borrow some of your savings. There is a doctor who helps whores when they are in trouble. I can get him to take away my problem.” Mary explained.  
Claire thought of her dream. She suddenly became frightened. “Don’t go Mary. Don’t see this doctor. There has to be another way”.  
“There’s not. I will be fine Claire. Don’t worry. May I please borrow some of your savings?”  
Mary stared at her with tears streaming down her face.  
“Fine, I will lend you the money on one condition. I will go with you to the doctor.” Claire said. If Mary had complications, Claire knew if she was there she could heal her.  
“My appointment is early in the morning. I promise you Claire, we will go to the doctor together.”  
Claire gave Mary the money she needed before leaving to find another nurse to cover her shift in the morning. 

In the hallway outside the nurses station, Claire had the misfortune of running into Dr. Christie.  
“Why Claire! I haven’t seen you around lately! How have the you been? Busy I presume?”  
Claire was angry but managed a false smile and replied “I’m well doctor, and busy yes, but I like my work.” She started to walk away.  
Dr. Christie reached out and grabbed her arm.  
“You’re not too busy to have a cup of coffee with me now, are you?”  
Claire was speechless. She couldn’t believe the arrogance of this man. “Yes, unfortunately I have an appointment that I’m late for. Maybe another time.” She said as she pulled her arm away and hurried down the hall. _That bloody bastard,_ she thought cringing. Once she helped Mary with her problem she would find a way to hold that man responsible. 

Claire awoke with a jolt in the morning. She instinctively felt something was wrong. She looked over to Mary’s empty bed. She had left without her! Claire cursed and got up and quickly dressed. She had to find Mary!

Claire was leaving the hospital grounds when she saw Mary. She was walking very slowly and looked extremely pale. Claire ran up to her and immediately hugged her. By this time she knew and understood the diagnostic sense; she’d practiced it and strengthened it. As her hands touched Mary’s body, she knew her friend had internal bleeding. _That bloody doctor!_ Mary would live if they stopped the bleeding, but she would never have another child.

Claire assisted Mary into the hospital and immediately alerted the staff to her condition. As a nurse wheeled Mary away, Claire was confident she would survive. She couldn’t help but cry at the unfortunate situation. Mary had left in the middle of the night to go to this butcher that called himself a doctor. She broke her promise to let Claire accompany her. 

Claire waited at the nurse’s station for news. Mary was being prepped for surgery. Dr. Christie appeared and walked down the hallway to the operating rooms. Twenty minutes later, Mary was wheeled away for surgery and Claire was informed that Dr. Christie would be performing the procedure. Claire’s heart dropped as she felt an irrational sense of doom. Dr. Christie wouldn’t hurt Mary. He couldn’t! 

An hour later, a very apologetic nurse informed Claire that Mary didn’t make it. She had lost too much blood. Claire dropped to her knees and started sobbing. The nurse tried to comfort her, but Claire pushed her away as she stood up and ran to the operating room. There she saw Mary’s cold and lifeless body lying covered in blood on the operating table. The nurse who was cleaning the body looked up and saw Claire.  
“You can’t be in here,” the nurse said.  
Claire ignored her walked over to Mary. She gently touched Mary’s face and felt all life gone in her cold body. Her dearest and only friend was dead. But it wasn’t death by natural causes. Claire cried as the nurse slowly led her out of the room. 

Claire wandered the hospital hallways in a daze as silent tears fell from her eyes. She wandered slowly and almost aimlessly through the hospital, as she took detours through vast carpeted waiting rooms and down long wards where she was not known, and would never be known, not knowing where to go or what to do. For two hours she wandered and then decided to go to the morgue where they would be keeping Mary’s body. Claire wanted to see her friend one more time. She was walking down an empty stairwell to the basement when she saw Dr. Christie once again. Claire turned to run back up the steps, but Dr. Christie had already spotted her and she had no choice except to face him.  
“Claire, we did everything to save her. She had already lost too much blood. Do you know what happened to her to cause such damage?” He asked nervously.  
Claire looked at Dr. Christie and knew the truth. _Murderer!_ He didn’t try to save her, he was afraid of a scandal. Claire just shook her head and feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what happened to her. We were roommates but she had not confided in me in a long time”. Claire said sadly and walked away.  
_Men are natural born liars..._ Claire heard Mary’s voice in her head. Mary always tried to protect her, and Claire wished that she could’ve done the same for her.

Mary was buried two days later in Claire’s best dress. It was all white and Mary looked just like a bride. She didn’t even look dead to Claire, just sleeping. It was hard to accept that Mary was gone.

In the following weeks, Dr. Tom Christie took an excessive interest in Claire. She worked amiably with him and his patients and after every shift he invited Claire for a coffee which she politely declined. Claire was no longer happy nursing at Pembroke hospital. Not as long as she had to work beside the bastard that killed her best friend. 

Dr. Christie finally cornered Claire alone one evening when she was ending her shift. He came up behind her and grabbed her. Claire screamed. He turned her around and asked “Are you alright Claire?”  
“Yes!” She exclaimed. “Do you always sneak up upon people from behind?” She asked irritated.  
“No, I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your friend Mary. I know how dear she was to you. I can see that you are still in mourning. She was an asset to this hospital. Her presence is sorely missed by all,” Dr. Christie told her.  
“Yes, she was dear to me, and she was a good nurse. Her death is a loss to all.” Claire said impassively as she tried to walk past him. Dr. Christie blocked her path. He stepped closer and put his hand to her chin and lifted Claire’s face to look up to his.  
“You have the most beautiful green eyes,” he said.  
Claire quickly turned her head away.  
“Thank you. My husband thinks my eyes are beautiful as well,” she said. She tried to move away but he was blocking her.  
“If there’s anything I can do to comfort you, let me know. He said as he stepped closer. He let his hand fall down to her shoulder then brought his hand around to cup her breast. He stepped even closer. “Claire” he said huskily.  
Claire tried to back away, but backed up to a wall behind her. She stood there frozen. Dr. Christie stepped even closer so his body was flush upon hers. With his hand still on her breast, his thumb began to circle her nipple making it hard. He moved his other hand to her bottom and pulled her hips close to his. She could feel his arousal pressing into her.

Claire closed her eyes. She was frightened but also felt anger rise up in her being. Anger like she never felt before. She wanted to hurt him, just like he hurt Mary. She felt a surge of power flow through her body and out as she pushed him away with both hands. That had been the instant that his eyes fixed and the expression washed out of his face as he fell to the ground. Without thinking or looking back, Claire ran out of the hospital all the way back to the nurse’s dorms and locked herself in her room. She sat in her bed shaking and was wide awake the entire night. She knew in the morning she would hear the news that Dr. Christie had died.

The next day, Claire was panicked and frightened. The hospital was buzzing with the news of the death of their Chief Surgeon, Dr. Christie. The official cause of death was apoplexy. Claire tried to call Frank but she could not reach him. She needed to talk to someone... anyone. She felt intense guilt as she went about her duties. No one would ever accused her of anything. How could they? No one had even seen them together. Even if someone had been present, Claire only pushed Dr. Christie away from her. She didn’t kill him. He died of apoplexy... A natural cause. _No, you killed him._

There were a couple weeks of chaos following the unusual deaths of Dr. Christie and Mary before the staff at Pembroke settled down and fell into a regular routine again. One evening, when Claire was alone doing some light cleaning in a lab, the lights suddenly went out then flickered back on. Claire looked around the room for the fuse box and noticed a hallway that led to a room she’d never seen. Thinking herself way too distracted, since she never noticed this before, she began to walk down the short hallway to an odd wooden door. She opened it and saw very large and muscular nude man sprawled on the floor bleeding out and about to die.  
“Jesus H. Christ! Where did you come from?” Claire exclaimed as she quickly rushed to his side. She touched him and her diagnostic sense said, yes, there is life, he could live if she stopped his bleeding. His back was covered with wounds so deep, some of the muscle was flayed off. Without another thought, Claire was in ‘crisis mode’ and began preparing to help this wounded man.  
“It’s alright, you’re going to be alright” she whispered to the gravely injured man. “I’m going to get some things to clean you up. Stay right here and don’t try to crawl anywhere else in the hospital.” She said. He looked at her. Claire saw sea blue eyes filled with pain.  
“Sorcha” he whispered and then he went unconscious. Claire ran her fingers through his thick wavy red hair. She quickly rose to get some help.

Claire walked into the hallway and found herself in a meadow by a river.  
“What the hell!” She said before she fell into the water. Her body was suddenly submerged and sinking and she struggled violently as water rushed into her nose and mouth. Claire thought she might drown.  
Claire then felt her head being pulled up. Within moments she was looking eye to eye with another nurse. The nurse asked her what she was doing. Claire began to scream.  
“Claire, what is wrong? And why was your head submerged in the water in the sink?” The nurse asked visibly worried.  
“I’ve been attacked! Find security!” She cried. “I was helping a wounded man... a patient.. he somehow crawled into this room... He is badly hurt! We must get help for him immediately...” Claire said in a shaky voice. She looked around the room and the hallway and the wounded man was gone. Claire wiped her face as she gazed around the room bewildered. Just the ordinary lab she saw. No secret hallways or doorways. Claire allowed the other nurse to sit her down as she dried herself off.  
”I will go find some help, Claire,” the young nurse said sympathetically.  
“No! No.... I will be alright... I must have fainted. I’m going end my shift early. I must not be well,” Claire assured her. She then got up and and slowly walked out of the lab wondering if it was all just her imagination. Or perhaps a premonition. Was she destined to drown? Who was the man she saw dying?

After that incident, Claire managed to telphone her Uncle. Through tears, she told Uncle Lamb about Mary’s death and her unknown attacker in the lab. With assistance from some medical colleagues, Q got Claire a medical discharge from duty in the following weeks. Claire was going home.


	8. Dr. Randall & Dr. Randall’s Second Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets a medical degree.... Frank returns home from the army.... they go to Scotland to get reacquainted and a mysterious patient appears once more...
> 
> *historical note: Elizabeth Garrett Anderson was the first female doctor to qualify in England. In 1876 a new Medical Act passed which allowed British medical authorities to license all qualified applicants whatever their gender. In 1874, she had co-founded London School of Medicine for Women with Sophia Jex-Blake and became a lecturer in what was the only teaching hospital in Britain to offer courses for women. She continued to work there for the rest of her career and was dean of the school from 1883 to 1902. This school was later called the Royal Free Hospital of Medicine, which later became part of what is now the medical school of University College London.

Q Beauchamp sat in his study having a dram while contemplating the events of his niece’s life. The recent troubles that had occurred while she was working at Pembroke Hospital had raised serious concerns for her safety. Q did everything in his power to bring her back home. Now that she was back under his care, he wasn’t sure just what to do with her next. She was too vunerable without the support of her family nearby; but she was also too intelligent to be content with a life of domesticity while waiting for her husband to return from active war duty. Although Claire was a highly skilled nurse, Q wanted her to take a rest from working long hours. She had come home changed. Q knew she was still mourning the loss of her friend, but he could not help but think his niece was a very different person now. Joe had been the first one to suggest medical school. Q thought this was an excellent idea. Claire loved to study and had been reading his anatomy and physiology books during the day. He decided he would call a university colleague and see about getting Claire admittance to the Royal Free School of Medicine for women in London. Her previous education, training and experience as a nurse made her a viable candidate.

Claire was ecstatic over the opportunity of studying medicine. She knew that a doctor could play a bigger part in the war effort than a nurse. Frank had tried to convince Claire to pursue the much more lady-like subject of botany, but she knew instictively that she was a healer and wanted to be a doctor. With her Uncle Lamb’s support, Claire excelled as a student and graduated in 1944 with honors and soon after received a junior residency at the Radcliffe Infirmary in Oxford. Q Beauchamp and Joe Abernathy were filled with pride. Claire had found her calling.

The following year, Claire received a letter from Frank informing her that he would soon return to England to accept an appointment as a medical professor at Oxford University. The war was drawing to a close and victory was assured for Britain and the allied armies. Although Frank held no objections, Claire continued to work Radcliffe Infirmary even though she knew he would prefer her to stay at home and to finally get started on creating a family. While women were praised for their wartime work, they were also expected to make way for the returning troops. There was an assumption that their roles had been specifically linked to wartime duty and they were now encouraged to return to domesticity. 

It was early spring in 1946 when Frank arrived at Uncle Lamb’s. When Q opened the door, he greeted Frank with a huge smile. The men hugged and at once were soon chatting just like old times. Aside from a few more grey hairs, Q Beauchamp looked the same. Frank was eager and slightly nervous to be reunited with his wife.  
“Come in Frank, join me for a dram in my study for a bit while we wait for Claire?”  
Frank agreed. He knew that there was some trouble over the years with Claire, but he was unable to leave his post without severe consequences. He was grateful to Q for attending to Claire.  
Q poured them a couple drinks and sat back and sighed. “Frank... I wanted to talk to you for a moment about Claire. It’s been 6 years since you’ve been in each other’s company. There are some things...” he trailed off vaguely and was silent.  
“I apologize, but can you be more specific? I know Claire had a bad incident when she was nursing at Pembroke.” Frank said.  
“Claire is different now, Frank. And she’s a doctor. It is best you handle her as such. She’s not the same girl she was. She’s not a girl at all anymore. She’s a woman. She’s a bit nervous about seeing you too. Just keep in mind that you were married only a month before leaving for duty and she has not seen you for 6 years. I suggest you both take some time to get properly reacquainted with each other. I think I hear her now. Take your drink. Cheers,” Q said and they both downed their dram.

They walked out of his office and Claire was waiting in the living room. Frank looked at her and was speechless. She looked like a completely different person. He glanced over at Q and he gave him a knowing nod. Claire’s eyes shined brightly, and she smiled.  
“Hello stranger!” She laughed. “Or should I say... husband?”  
Frank walked up to her. Her eyes were a bright green. Were her eyes always green? He couldn’t remember. Her hair was long and very curly. It was like perfect ringlets that cascaded down her shoulders shining in the afternoon. Frank had always thought Claire was beautiful. As his patient, he remembered her delicate features had endeared her to him and made him want to protect her. The woman standing before him now, with grace and a temperament that matched her beauty left Frank breathless.  
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”, Frank whispered and gave Claire a chaste kiss on the cheek and a hug.  
“Well, in that case” she said, “I am happy to see you too.”  
“Shall I call you Dr. Randall?” Frank asked.  
“Why not? Everybody does,” she replied cheekily.  
“Dr. Randall and Dr. Randall... we make quiet a pair,” Frank said flirtatiously.  
“Indeed, we do,” she said as she smiled.

Over the next couple weeks they were busy with their relocation in Oxford. Frank found a flat located centrally from the University and the Hospital. After settling in their new place, Frank took Q’s advice and surprised Claire with a trip to the Highlands as a place to holiday and get reacquainted after their long separation. Frank thought that Scotland had been somewhat less affected by the physical horrors of war than the rest of Britain.

Mrs. Baird’s was like a thousand other Highland bed-and-breakfast establishments in 1946; clean and quiet, with fading floral wallpaper, gleaming floors, and a coin-operated hot-water geyser in the lavatory. Mrs. Baird herself was easygoing, and made no objection to Frank laying out his papers and books all over her tiny parlor.

“There’s no place on earth with more of the old superstitions and magic mixed into its daily life than the Scottish Highlands.” Frank said as they observed some blood on the doorstep of the bed and breakfast. “Ritual sacrifice”, I’m sure of it. Beltane is tomorrow.”  
“What is the significance of Beltane?” Claire asked.  
“The Scots believe ghosts are freed on the holy days, and can wander about at will, to do harm or good as they please. Hence the sacrifice.” Frank informed her.  
Claire shivered and stepped over the blood. She thought of her own ghosts and quickly suppressed those thoughts. That was in the past. She was on a holiday with her husband and she would enjoy herself. She wanted to explore the town of Inverness. After years of rationing, she was looking forward to buying some new clothes while Frank had an appointment with The Rev. Dr. Reginald Wakefield, vicar of the local parish, who unearthed some new fascinating information about his notorious ancestor Jonathan Randall.  
Claire kissed Frank before she stepped into a taxi that was waiting for her in the street.  
“We’ll meet at 6 pm for dinner?” She asked.  
“Looking forward to it my dear”, Frank replied. 

Claire wandered through the small town looking in various shop windows. She had never owned many things. As a nurse, she only wore a uniform and as a student she could only buy second hand clothing. She didn’t have many new clothes. A dress caught her eye, and she went into the shop. It was a delicate white sundress, way too fine to go hiking through the heather in, but it was beautiful. Claire asked to try it on and decided to buy it. She also noticed some fine lingerie in the corner of the shop. A very delicate white lace bustier with matching lacey underwear. Although Frank had come home weeks ago, they had not been intimate yet. Claire thought she should try to make this night special. She purchased the items and continued to explore the town. When it began to drizzle, Claire decided to get a taxi and go back to their room early. It would also give her time to get ready for the evening.

When Claire arrived back at the bed and breakfast. Mrs. Baird has a message for her. “Yer husband called and said he’ll be meeting ye at 6:30”.  
“Thank you Mrs. Baird,” Claire said as she walked up to the room with her bags. She was excited to get ready. She decided to first take a luxuriously long shower, letting the heat and steam relax her muscles. It wasn’t until the water went cold that Claire left the shower. Refreshed she covered herself in a towel and went to lie on the bed. She opened her bags and got out her new lingerie. Smiling she put them on and went to look in the mirror. “I could almost be a bride” she thought as she admired herself in the delicate white lace. The sun was beginning to set and Frank would be back soon. She sat down at the vanity in their room and began working through her curls. As Claire fussed with her hair, she noticed the wind started rising outside. There would be a storm soon. 

As Claire finished with her hair, she saw a flash outside and heard the large crack of thunder. The lights went out suddenly. “Bloody hell!” Claire cursed and started fumbling around the drawers looking for some matches and candles. There had to be some in the room somewhere as power outages were frequently occurring in the Highlands. She finally found some in the drawer and there where a lot of them. Claire then lit several candles and set them around the room. “Very romantic” she thought. She then turned off the light switch off just in case the came back on at an inopportune moment. She didn’t want to ruin the romantic mood.

Frank swiftly entered the room opening the door with a force that almost blew out the candles. Claire looked at Frank’s face and he seemed pale and disheveled.  
“What’s the matter? Did you see a ghost?” Claire asked.  
“Well, I’m not too entirely sure that I haven’t” he said.  
Claire looked out the window. It was dark and the trees where swaying in the storm. She saw streetlight below that was not affected by the storm. The glow under the lamp began to grow and beyond it she saw blue skies and rolling hills. The room began to fade as her vision grew.  
“Claire!” Frank yelled. She looked at him and realized he was talking to her. “Where did you just go?” He asked.  
“Sorry, I was just having a small headache”. She said.  
“You didn’t answer my question. Were there any Scots under your care? At the field hospital or at Pembroke?” He asked impatiently.  
“Of course,” Claire replied, somewhat puzzled. Claire smiled, remembering one in particular. “We had one, a piper from the Third Seaforths, who couldn’t stand being stuck, especially not in the hip. He’d go for hours in the most awful discomfort before he’d let anyone near him with a needle, even then he’d try to get us to give him the injection in the arm, though it’s meant to be intramuscular.” Claire laughed. “He told me, ‘If I’m goin’ to lie on my face wi’ my buttocks bared, I want the lass under me, not behind me wi’ a hatpin!’” Frank smiled, but looked a trifle uneasy.  
Claire then frowned. “Why are you asking me about my patients?”  
“Well, the man outside, the ghost, he looked as if he was looking at you. In this room. I could see you sitting at the vanity combing your hair.” Frank said.  
“He was looking at me! I’m barely dressed!” She exclaimed.  
“I have noticed that,” Frank said softly caressing her shoulder.  
Claire was suddenly curious. “Well, what did he look like?” She asked.  
“He was a big chap. He seemed terribly unhappy about something. Not that I could see his face well” said Frank, frowning in recollection. “And a Scot, in complete Highland rig-out, complete to sporran and the most beautiful running-stag brooch on his plaid. I wanted to ask where he’d got it from, but he was off before I could.”  
“Well, not so unusual an appearance for these parts, surely? I’ve seen men dressed like that in the village now and then.”  
“Nooo …” Frank sounded doubtful. “No, it wasn’t his dress that was odd. But when he pushed past me, I could swear he was close enough that I should have felt him brush my sleeve—but I didn’t. And I was intrigued enough to turn round and watch him as he walked away. He walked down the Gereside Road, but when he’d almost reached the corner, he … disappeared. That’s when I began to feel a bit cold down the backbone. The wind was cutting up like billy-o, but his drapes—his kilts and his plaid, you know—they didn’t move at all, except to the stir of his walking.” Frank explained.  
“Well,” Claire said finally, “that is a bit spooky.”  
“Well, at least I’ll have a new story for the vicar. I can’t blame a ghost for stopping by your window. You look beautiful tonight Claire” Frank said softly.  
“I went shopping today. Do you like it?” Claire asked while smoothing her hands over her new lingerie.  
“I like everything about you”, Frank said huskily as he moved his hands down from her shoulders to cup her breasts. He put his lips to her neck and began kissing her slowly. “You smell wonderful and you are gorgeous by candlelight. I might have to disconnect the lights permanently”. He added.  
“Then how will you ever read in bed”, Claire teased.  
“I can think of other things to do in bed”, he replied.  
“You can? Like what?” She said with a smile.  
Frank then picked her up and carried her to the bed.

It was sometime later, as they lay in bed, that Claire felt uneasy with her husband. Frank was lightly running his fingers along Claire’s arm and she felt all was not well with him.  
“Why did you ask about my patients? About whether any of them were Scots. There were many different men in the hospital”. Claire asked.  
“I thought maybe one of your patients knew you and followed you here. When I saw that man standing there I thought maybe he was someone that you nursed” He replied.  
“Then why wouldn’t he come to the door and ask for me?” Claire sat up and looked at him.  
“Perhaps he didn’t want to run into me”. He said.  
Claire was silent for a moment. “Are you implying, _HUSBAND,_ that I had some tyst with a patient? Do you think I was unfaithful to you?” She asked as her voice started to rise. Claire was angry.  
“No, darling, of course not. I don’t think that at all. It’s only that it was 6 years and we did not see each other. If something had happened- “ he explained.  
“How can you think based on the evidence of a man looking in my window, that I would have an affair!” Claire interrupted. Frank tried to put his arm around her. “Don’t touch me!” She yelled.  
“No I don’t think that, it’s just if something did happen, I love you so much Claire. I love you no matter what. I just wanted you to know that. Please forgive me.” He said.  
Claire settled back down. “Well perhaps I did nurse him, and maybe he wanted to thank me. Did you think of that? What did he look like again?” Claire asked.  
“He was over 6 feet tall, and was very much a Scot with the red hair, even the -“  
Claire immediately interrupted. “There is nobody particular that comes to mind. I think it must have been a ghost”. She said.  
“You might be right darling,” he said and kissed her goodnight.

Claire couldn’t sleep. The ‘ghost’ Frank described reminded her of the vision she had while nursing at Pembroke Hospital. She had seen a Scot who was badly hurt and bloody. She tried to help him, but then had another hallucination before he disappeared. Maybe it was the same ghost! She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. Stop thinking he was a ghost. They were vivid nightmares in response to stress nothing more. Tricks of the mind. Claire looked over at Frank as he slept. She knew she was faithful to him but... as he said... 6 years was a long time. Perhaps Frank’s ‘ghost’ was nothing more than a temporary manifestation of guilt. Claire wondered how many women he had in her absence.


	9. Through The Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire remembers her ancestors... then falls through the stones

The next morning Claire and Frank went sightseeing throughout the Highlands. Claire pretended she was in love with her husband all day long. She suppressed her anger over the thought of Frank with other women. Claire wished she didn’t always sense when Frank was lying to her, but her diagnostic sense was not something she could ‘turn off’. They drove amiably to the Great Glen of Loch Ness. It was a beautiful day and their tour guide, despite his dour appearance, was knowledgeable and talkative, pointing out the islands, castles, and ruins that rimmed the long, narrow loch.

It was very late when they stumbled back to Mrs. Baird’s laughing over the events of the day. As they were undressing for bed, Frank began fumbling around his suitcase.  
“What are you looking for?” Claire asked.  
“The alarm clock,” he replied.  
“Whatever for?” Claire asked in astonishment.  
“I want to be up in time to see the witches.” Frank said.  
“Witches? Who told you there are witches?” She asked.  
“The vicar,” Frank answered chuckling, clearly enjoying a joke. “His housekeeper’s one of them.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said.  
“Well, not witches, actually. There have been witches all over Scotland for hundreds of years—they burnt them ’til well into the eighteenth century—but this lot is really meant to be Druids, or something of the sort. I don’t suppose it’s actually a coven—not devil-worship, I don’t mean. But the vicar said there was a local group that still observes rituals on the old sun-feast days. He can’t afford to take too much interest in such goings-on, you see, because of his position, but he’s much too curious a man to ignore it altogether, either.” Frank explained.

Getting up in the dark made Claire cranky. Frank drove them to the standing stones where the rituals were performed, but they also had to hike to reach them. It was cold and misty and Claire was too sleepy to climb up the hill. They finally made it. Craigh na Dun. The miniature stone henge. Frank crept along the dark and found a good place they could watch. As the sun began to rise the first dancer showed up. They came quite quickly after that, in ones and twos and threes, with subdued giggles and whispers on the path that were quickly shushed as they came into sight of the circle.

They assembled outside the ring of stones, in a line from eldest to youngest, and stood in silence, waiting. The light in the east grew stronger. As the sun edged its way above the horizon, the line of women began to move, walking slowly between two of the stones. The leader took them directly to the center of the circle, and led them round and round, still moving slowly, stately as swans in a circular procession. The leader suddenly stopped, raised her arms, and stepped into the center of the circle. Raising her face toward the pair of easternmost stones, she called out in a high voice. Not loud, but clear enough to be heard throughout the circle. The still mist caught the words and made them echo, as though they came from all around, from the stones themselves.

Whatever the call was, it was echoed again by the dancers. For dancers they now became. They stopped as one, and turned to face the rising sun, standing in the form of two semicircles, with a path lying clear between the halves of the circle thus formed. As the sun rose above the horizon, its light flooded between the eastern stones, knifed between the halves of the circle, and struck the great split stone on opposite side of the henge.

At some point during the dance, Claire began to feel that she was part of it too. In the distance, she heard chanting. It was from another source, not the dancers they were watching. The chanting increased in volume and Claire was mesmerized by it. The light became very bright through the stones and Claire could see nothing else, as if she were engulfed into the stones. She then heard the muttering of the same strange language.

“Claire, Claire... Are you alright?” Frank asked gently shaking her.  
“I’m fine, I was just listening to the dancer’s chanting.” She said.  
“The dancers are finished. I don’t hear any chanting,” Frank said looking suddenly worried. “We better get you home” he said helping her up and leading them down the hill. Claire felt a bit dizzy and tripped and rolled to the ground.  
Frank knelt down beside her. “Darling, Are you ok? You don’t seem like yourself all the sudden,” He asked. Feeling foolish, Claire just looked up at him and laughed. 

Frank suddenly had deja vou. He remembered looking at Claire in the hospital all those years ago, and seeing a vision of her laughing in the grass with him. He stared into her eyes. She was more beautiful than he remembered during those years of war. He leaned closer to her “Would you like to go to Mrs. Baird’s for breakfast?” He said huskily. “All that hill climbing works up and appetite”. He looked at Claire so lovingly that it sent tingles down her spine.  
“What are you hungry for?” Claire asked and he gently brought his lips to hers. Claire sighed and opened her mouth and relaxed into the kiss. Frank deepened it and then began to undo the buttons of her dress. Claire let out a soft moan as she felt the length of him on her leg. He slowly began to move his hand under her dress towards the center of her heat. Claire moved herself against him and thought maybe married life with Frank could work out after all. Perhaps they just needed a fresh start.

Later that afternoon at Mrs. Bairds, Frank found Claire in the parlor with a bunch of books. “What are you doing?” he asked. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders.  
“Looking up information about those dancers and the stones. I want to know how old the stones are and to get a better look at them,” She said.  
“Well, why not go back and inspect the stones?” he suggested. “You can borrow Mrs. Baird’s car. It’s a short walk from the road to the foot of the hill. If you’re going up there anyway, I wish you’d have a quick look around the outside of the stone circle.”  
“All right,” Claire said obligingly. “What for?”  
“Traces of fire,” he said. “In all the things I’ve been able to read about Beltane, fire is always mentioned in the rituals, yet the women we saw this morning weren’t using any. I wondered if perhaps they’d set the Beltane fire the night before.”

The next morning Claire woke early but it was still nearly eleven before she reached the stone circle. It started drizzling, and she was getting soaked through, not having thought about the fickle Scottish weather beforehand. She was wearing her new white dress and did not bring a coat. Claire made a cursory examination of the outside of the circle, but if there had ever been a fire there, someone had taken pains to remove its traces.

She walked up to the stones. She couldn’t erase the chanting from her mind. There was something familiar about it. The tallest stone of the circle was cleft, with a vertical split dividing the two massive pieces. There was a deep humming noise coming from somewhere near at hand. It was a deeply familiar sound and Claire thought there might be a beehive lodged in some crevice of the rock, and placed a hand on the stone in order to lean into the cleft. The stone screamed. Claire backed away as fast as she could, moving so quickly that she tripped on the turf behind her.

The other stones began to shout. There was a noise of battle, and the cries of dying men and shattered horses. Claire shook her head forcefully to clear it, but the noise went on. She stumbled to her feet and staggered toward the edge of the circle. She felt dizzy and sick. She walked toward some trees and rested beneath them. She could hear more shouting. It sounded like a battle. _But the war is over._


	10. Stuck in a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire meets Jonathan Randall and Jamie... same depiction as in the original book.... but it’s sooo different this time

Claire knew she was dreaming when she saw a few men in kilts running across the hill being chased by six men wearing redcoats, knee breeches and waving muskets. She stood up and noticed the smell of the forest. She heard the sounds of gunshots and became alarmed. She then heard the sound of hooves and saw horses coming in her direction. She quickly ran into the woods. _A historical re-enactment!_ This wasn’t one of her lucid dreams or visions. Claire relaxed as she began walking to her car; deciding to circle around the opposite way to avoid the actors.

She was walking slowly through the woods when a hand shot out at her and covered her mouth. She tried to scream as she was being dragged backwards to the clearing. The man reeked of rotting flesh and when he finally let go of her mouth and turned her round, she gasped at what she saw.  
There was Frank. In a uniform with a musket. “Frank! What are you playing at?” Claire cried angrily. “You scared me!” Then Claire slowly realized it wasn’t Frank. “You are not Frank” she said slowly.  
“No I am not”, he agreed, looking at her with considerable interest.  
The man looked like he could be Frank’s brother. Although his hair was long, and tied back. He had a deep baked tan that showed months, no years, of exposure to harsh weather.  
“And just who are you then?” Claire asked carefully. She was feeling confused and frustrated. Not to mention a bit angry that Frank was playing some sort of Highland prank on her.  
“Who am I? I might ask the same question, madam, and with considerably more justification.” His dark eyes raked Claire slowly from head to toe. Claire was beginning to get nervous and began to back away. He had black eyes just like _the man_ that used to visit her as a teenager. The same hallucination that put her in the mental ward at Warenford Hospital. 

He slowly began walking towards her. He smiled and almost laughed. The look on his face was positively evil. “I told you that I would find you, Julia. You might be able to change the way you look with your tricks but I’d recognize your eyes anywhere.” He looked down at Claire’s hand and saw the ring he bespelled. “I’ve brought you back exactly to the place you thought you had escaped me.”

Claire was completely confused. _He recognized her eyes? Well, she recognized his eyes as well!_ She examined the man thoroughly. He was wearing a coat that was a deep scarlet and long tailed. It appeared to be an officer’s coat. The same coat all the actors were wearing.  
“Well, my name is not Julia, it’s Claire... I really must find my husband now,” she said calmly even though she was shaking from fear. She wanted to get to her car as soon as possible and never return here again. She began to step away from the man.  
The man grabbed her wrist tightly and then bowed sardonically, his other hand over his heart. “I am, madam, Jonathan Randall, Esquire, Colonel of His Majesty’s Ninth Dragoons. At your service, madam.” he said with a sardonic laugh.

Claire yanked her hand away and broke into a run. There was something unnatural about that man. Her diagnostic sense went into overdrive when he touched her. She felt no life in his body. She fled blindly as branches scratched her face and arms and her ankles turned stepping in holes and on rocks. Just when she thought she managed to escape the man, she was struck very hard on her back and fell forward onto the ground. She was immediately flipped over on her back, and Captain Jonathan Randall rose to his knees above her. She breathing heavily, and couldn’t help but notice how filthy the man was. He smelled of death.

“What the devil do you mean by running away like that?” he demanded. A thick lock of dark-brown hair had come loose across his brow, making him look even more like Frank. Claire tried to push him away but he just ended up lying completely upon her.  
“What do you think- “ Claire began to say when he put his mouth over hers. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and explored with a bold familiarity. Then just as quickly he stopped. He patted her cheek. “Quite nice, Julia. We will finish that later, when I’ve the leisure to attend to you properly.” Randall sneered.  
Claire had recovered her breath and took that moment to scream as loud as she could. Jonathan jumped back as if he had just been stabbed. Claire pushed him with a considerable force that flowed within her jumped up and ran. 

He immediately caught her once again. “You won’t escape me this time!” He smiled derisively holding her wrists.  
Claire tried to free herself from his grip. “Let go of me!” She screamed. He had fingers like steel. Disregarding her efforts, he turned her face from one side to the other, examining her. “Convincing disguise. You’ve managed to slightly change your looks. No matter though.”  
“Get away from me! My husband is expecting me; if I’m not back in ten minutes, he’ll come looking for me!” She exclaimed.  
“Oh, your husband?” The admiring expression retreated somewhat, but did not disappear completely. “And what is your husband’s name, pray? Where is he? And why does he allow his wife to wander alone through deserted woods in a state undress? I believe I was the one that killed your husband!” He grinned at the memory.

There was a sudden whoosh from above, followed immediately by a blur before Claire’s eyes and a dull thud. Captain Randall was on the ground under a heaving mass that looked like a bundle of old plaid rags. A brown, rocklike fist rose out of the mass and descended with considerable force, by the sound of the resultant crack. The Captain’s struggling legs relaxed quite suddenly. 

Claire found herself staring into a pair of sharp dark eyes and a sinewy hand grabbed her forearm. “And who the hell are you?” Claire said in astonishment. “Don’t touch me!” she gasped as she yanked her arm out of his grip.  
The man was some inches shorter than her, but the bare arms protruding from the ragged shirt were knotted with solid muscle. His face was weathered, with pockmarked skin, a low brow, and a narrow jaw.  
“This way.” He grabbed her arm again, and Claire, stupefied by the rush of recent events, followed. He evidently knew his way around the hills.  
“Thank you for your help. My car is just at the bottom of the hill where the stones are,” Claire said as she reluctantly followed the man as he pushed his way rapidly through the woods.  
He made an abrupt turn around a large rock, and suddenly they were on a path. Not until they were picking their way cautiously down the far side of the hill did Claire realize she was walking in the wrong direction of her vehicle.  
“Where on earth are we going?” she asked in a loud tone. “My car is by the stones, I must get home to my husband! He’s expecting me!” Suddenly Claire felt a hand around her mouth and struggled.  
_‘Not again!’_ she thought just before she was hit from behind and everything went black.

The stone cottage loomed up suddenly through a haze of night mist. The shutters were bolted tight, showing no more than a thread of light. Claire had no idea how long she had been unconscious. She didn’t know how far away she was from the hill of Craigh na Dun or the town of Inverness. She was on horseback, mounted before her captor, with her hands tied to the pommel, but there was no road ahead, so their progress was rather slow. Claire thought she had not been out for long; She knew from her healing instincts that she had no symptoms of concussion or other ill effects from the blow, save a sore patch on the base of her skull. Her captor, a man of few words, had responded to her questions with the all-purpose Scottish noise “Mmmmphm.” 

Claire’s eyes had adapted to the dwindling light outside as the horse stumbled through the stones and gorse, so it was a shock to step from near-dark into what seemed a blaze of light inside the cottage. As her eyes adjusted, Claire could see that in fact the single room was lit only by a fire, several candlesticks, and a dangerously old-fashioned-looking oil lamp. “What is it ye have there, Murtagh?” A man grabbed Claire by the arm and shoved her into the firelight.  
“A Sassenach wench, Dougal, by her speech.” Murtagh answered.  
“Wench!” Claire cried. “How dare you! And what do you mean by taking me hostage! When the authorities find out about this, I’ll have you arrested!” Claire said boldly. There were several men in the room, all staring at Claire, some in hostility, some with leers. Her dress had been torn in various spots during her previous struggle with Randall. Looking down, Claire could see the curve of one breast clearly through a rip. Realizing her precarious position, Claire clenched her jaw and looked away from the men.  
“Eh, a bonny one, Sassenach or no,” said a man ignoring her outburst. He was a muscular, sleazy-looking sort, seated by the fire. He got up and walked over to Claire and pushed her chin up with the back of his hand, shoving the hair out of her face.  
“Don’t you dare touch me!” Claire snapped shoving his hand away.  
The other men clustered close around her, a mass of plaid and whiskers, smelling strongly of sweat and alcohol. It was only then that Claire saw they were all kilted—odd, even for this part of the Highlands. Had she stumbled into the meeting of a historical clan society? Surely, they would not hurt a woman? She looked at the men and her heart began to beat faster and her breath quickened in panic. Claire struggled to breathe as her throat tightened and she knew in a moment a flood of tears would spill down her face.

“C’mere, lass.” A large, muscular dark-haired man remained seated at the table by the window as he beckoned Claire. By his air of command, she thought him to be the leader of this pack. The men parted reluctantly as Murtagh pushed Claire forward.  
The dark man looked her over carefully, a smile on his face. He was good-looking, Claire thought, and not unfriendly. There were lines of strain between his brows, though, and it wasn’t a face one would willingly cross. “What’s your name, lass?” His voice was light for a man of his size, not the deep bass Claire would have expected.  
“Claire … Claire Beauchamp,” she choked out, deciding on the spur of the moment to use her maiden name. If it was ransom they had in mind, She didn’t want to help them by giving a name that could lead to Frank. She wasn’t sure she wanted these rough-looking men to know who she was, before she found out who they were.  
“Beauchamp?” The heavy brows lifted and the general company stirred in surprise. “A French name, it is, surely?”  
Claire had in fact pronounced the name in French, though she used the common English pronunciation of “Beecham.” The less they knew about her, the better. “Yes, that’s right,” She answered.  
“Where did ye find this lass?” Dougal demanded, swinging round on Murtagh, who was refreshing himself from a leather flask.  
The swarthy man shrugged. “At the foot o’ Craigh na Dun. She was havin’ words with a certain captain of dragoons wi’ whom I chanced to be acquent’,” he added, with a significant lift of his eyebrows. “There seemed to be some question as to whether he knew the lady or not.”  
Dougal looked Claire over carefully once more, taking in every detail.  
“I see. And what was the _lady’s_ position in this discussion?” he inquired, with a emphasis on the word ‘lady’ that Claire didn’t care for.  
Murtagh seemed grimly amused; at least one corner of the thin mouth turned up. “She said she didna. The captain himself appeared to be of two minds on the matter.”  
“What d’ye say, Murtagh?” Dougal demanded.  
“Nay,” he said definitely. “I’ve no idea what she might be—or who—but I’ll stake my best shirt she’s no a friend Captain Randall.”  
“Perhaps she is a whore. We could put that to the test.” The muscular, sleazy black-bearded man stepped toward Claire grinning, hands tugging at his belt. Claire backed up hastily as far as she could, which was not nearly far enough, given the dimensions of the cottage. The tears that threatened to fall finally slid down Claire’s cheeks.  
“That will do, Rupert. You’ve frightened the poor lass” Dougal was still smiling at Claire, but his voice held the ring of authority, and Rupert stopped his advances, making a comical face of disappointment.  
Claire felt absurdly as though dressed in her undergarments and remained nervous in the face of the openly lascivious looks on some of the other men. She kept her head down as she wiped the tears from her face.  
“We’ll puzzle this out later,” said Dougal brusquely. “We’ve a good distance to go tonight, and we must do something for Jamie first; he canna ride like that.” 

Claire shrank back into the shadows near the fireplace, hoping to avoid further attention. She wondered if she could slip away while they were focusing elsewhere. The men’s attention had shifted to a young man crouched on a stool in the corner. He had barely looked up through her interrogation, but kept his head bent, hand clutching the opposite shoulder, rocking slightly back and forth in pain.

While they huddled around the man in the corner, Claire crept slowly towards the door and silently slipped out of the cabin and ran in the woods. She heard shout after her and she ducked behind a tree. Nearby she saw a small stream and she carefully walked over and dipped her hands in the ice cold water and furiously splashed it over her face. _Wake Up!_ She thought to herself. She then rose and swiftly started making her way through the woods in the dark. If this wasn’t a dream, she needed to find help as soon as possible.


	11. The Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire meets Jamie and fixes his shoulder... she still doesn’t know yet she’s travelled back in time... Both Claire and Jamie are attracted to each other at first sight... Claire can’t keep her hands off Jamie... Dougal can’t keep his hands off Claire...

The cold water felt good on Claire’s face. Her heart rate was finally slowing down and returning to normal. No longer in a state of panic, she carefully made her way through the woods. By this time Frank would be worried and perhaps calling the Scottish authorities. She had to get back to Craigh an Dun and to her borrowed car. Then she would go to the authorities and report the men who had attacked her. Claire walked slowly and silently when she heard a stick crack in the woods. She stood still and listened. Suddenly hands were around her mouth again to smother her screams. 

“If ye don’t keep silent, I’ll be forced to gag you. I willna be pleasant lass.” Murtagh said. He removed his hand when Claire stopped screaming. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder and walked back to the cabin. Once inside, Dougal stood and gave Claire a furious look. “Bring me the lass.” Murtugh walked Claire over to him, and Dougal took her arm with a smile. “Stay close,” he said firmly leaning into her then set her on a chair behind him. 

Dougal’s attention turned to the young man. One of the men pulled back the young man’s plaid, revealing a dirt-smeared linen shirt blotched with blood. A small man with a thick mustache came up behind the lad with a single-bladed knife, and holding the shirt at the collar, slit it across the breast and down the sleeve, so that it fell away from the shoulder. Claire gasped, as did several of the men. The shoulder had been wounded; there was a deep ragged furrow across the top, and blood was running freely down the young man’s chest. But more shocking was the shoulder joint itself. A dreadful hump rose on that side, and the arm hung at an impossible angle.

Dougal grunted. “Mmph. Out o’ joint, poor bugger.”  
The young man looked up for the first time. Though drawn with pain and stubbled with red beard, it was a strong familiar face. Claire’s eyes widened. For the second time today, she saw the face from a vision she had years ago. It couldn’t be! He looked exactly like the same red-headed man she saw hurt in the hospital. At the time, she thought he had crawled out of bed badly wounded and ended up on the floor in the lab. It was all a hallucination though, because he then disappeared. 

“Fell wi’ my hand out, when the musket ball knocked me off my saddle. I landed with all my weight on the hand, and crunch!, there it went.” the young man said.  
“Crunch is right.” The mustached man said as he probed his arm making the man grimace in pain. “The wound’s no trouble. The ball went right through, and it’s clean—the blood’s runnin’ free enough.” The man picked up a wad of grimy cloth from the table and used it to blot the blood. “I don’t know quite what to do about the disjointure, though. We’d need a chirurgeon to put it back in place properly. You canna ride with it that way, can you, Jamie lad?”  
_‘Musket ball?’_ Claire thought blankly. _‘Chirurgeon? What the hell?’_  
The young man shook his head, white-faced. “Hurts like the devil sitting still. I can’t manage a horse.” He squeezed his eyes shut and set his teeth hard in his lower lip.  
Murtagh spoke impatiently. “Well, we canna leave him behind now, can we? The lobsterbacks will find this place sooner or later, shutters or no. And Jamie can hardly pass for an innocent cottar, wi’ yon great hole in ’im.”  
“Doona worry yourself,” Dougal said shortly. “I don’t mean to leave him behind.” He sighed. “No help for it, then. We’ll have to try and force the joint back. Murtagh, you and Rupert hold him; I’ll give it a try.” 

Claire watched in sympathy as he picked up the young man’s arm by wrist and elbow and began forcing it upward. The angle was quite wrong. Sweat poured down the young man’s face, but he made no sound beyond a soft groan. Suddenly he slumped forward, kept from falling on the floor only by the grip of the men holding him. The men began to try again when Claire stood up suddenly.  
“Stop what you’re doing!” She said anxiously. “You’ll break his arm!” Claire moved forward towards the man oblivious to the startled looks of the surrounding men.  
“Step out of the way”, Claire said as she elbowed Rupert back. She took hold of the man’s wrist. He looked up at her surprised but he didn’t resist. She felt her heart flutter when she looked into his blue eyes.  
“You have to get the bone of the upper arm at the proper angle before it will slip back into its joint,” Claire managed to say, and she pulled the wrist up and the elbow in.  
“This is the worst part,” Claire warned the patient. She cupped the elbow, ready to whip it upward and in.  
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “It canna hurt much worse than it does. Get on with it.”  
Sweat was forming on Claire’s face by now. Resetting a shoulder joint is hard work at the best of times. Done on a large man who had gone hours since the dislocation, his muscles now swollen and pulling on the joint, would take all the strength she had. Suddenly the shoulder gave a soft crunching pop! and the joint was back in place. The patient looked amazed. He put an unbelieving hand up to explore.  
“It doesna hurt anymore!” A broad grin of relief spread across his face, and the men broke out in exclamations and applause.

“It will be tender for several days. You mustn’t extend the joint at all for two or three days; when you do use it again, go very slowly at first. Stop at once if it begins to hurt, and use warm compresses on it daily.” Claire became aware, in the midst of this advice, that while the patient was listening intently focused on her, the other men were eyeing her with looks of outright suspicion.  
“I’m a doctor, you see,” Claire explained, feeling somehow defensive.  
They exchanged puzzles glances, then Dougal looked back at her. “Be that as it may,” he said, raising his brows. “You seem to have some skill at healing. Can ye stanch the lad’s wound, well enough for him to sit a horse?”  
“I can dress the wound, yes,” Claire said. “Provided you’ve anything to dress it with. And why do you suppose I’d want to help you, anyway?” She asked.  
Claire was ignored as Dougal turned and spoke in a tongue she dimly recognized as Gaelic. The woman provided some filthy old rags.  
“No, that won’t do,” Claire said, fingering them gingerly. “The wound needs to be disinfected first, then bandaged with a clean cloth, if there are no sterile bandages.”  
Eyebrows rose all around. “Disinfected?” said the small man, carefully.  
“Yes, indeed,” Claire said firmly, thinking him a bit simpleminded. “All dirt must be removed from the wound and it must be treated to discourage germs and promote healing.”  
“Such as?” Dougal asked.  
“Such as iodine,” Claire said. Seeing no comprehension on the faces before her, Claire tried again. “Dilute carbolic?” She suggested. “Or perhaps even just alcohol?”  
Looks of relief. At last Claire had found a word they appeared to recognize. Murtagh thrust the leather flask into her hands. Claire sighed with impatience. These highland men were complete primitives.  
“Look,” Claire said, as patiently as she could. “Why don’t you just take him down into the town? It can’t be far, and I’m sure there’s a doctor there who could see to him.”  
The woman gawped at Claire. “What town?” She asked.

Dougal was ignoring the discussion, peering cautiously into the darkness around the curtain’s edge. He let it fall back into place and stepped quietly to the door. The men fell quiet as he vanished into the night. In a moment he was back and he shook his head in answer to the men’s questioning looks.  
“Nay, nothing close. We’ll go at once, while it’s safe.” Catching sight of Claire, he stopped for a moment and smiled. Then he nodded at her.  
“She’ll come with us,” he said with a grim smile.  
The mustached man seemed disinclined to have Claire along. “Why do ye not just leave her here?”  
Dougal cast him an impatient glance, but left it to Murtagh to explain.  
“Wherever the redcoats are now, they’ll be here by dawn, which is no so far off, considering. If this woman’s an English spy, we canna risk leaving her here to tell them which way we’ve gone. And if she should not be on good terms wi’ them”—he looked dubiously at Claire—“ we certainly canna leave a lone woman here in her shift.” He brightened a bit, fingering the fabric of Claire’s skirt. “She might be worth a bit in the way of ransom; little as she has on, it’s fine stuff.”  
Claire listened to the man with bewilderment.  
_‘English spy? What the hell?’_ she thought.  
“Besides,” Dougal added, interrupting, “she may be useful on the way.” He said with a sinister grin. “I’m afraid ye’ll have to go without being ‘disinfected,’ Jamie,” he said, clapping the younger man on the back. “Can ye ride one-handed?”  
“Aye.”  
“Good lad. Here,” he said, tossing the greasy rag at Claire. “Bind up his wound, quickly. We’ll be leaving directly.”

The linen of her patient’s shirt was old and worn, but still surprisingly tough. With a bit of a struggle, Claire ripped the rest of the sleeve open and used it to improvise a sling. “Am I hurting you?” Claire asked.  
He shook his head. “Nay, lass.” He dragged in a heavy breath. “Ye have a healing touch.”  
Claire stepped back to survey the results of her impromptu dressing, and backed straight into Dougal, who had come in quietly behind her to watch. He put his hands on her shoulders and started to massage them while he looked approvingly at her handiwork. Claire cringed at the familiar way he put his hands on her. She jerked her body away.  
“Don’t touch me!” she quickly said to Dougal with a frown. She turned her attention back to her patient and noticed his face darkened as he stared at Dougal.  
“Good job, lass. Come on, we’re ready.” Dougal said. Ignoring her comment, he then grabbed her arm forcibly and led her to the door.

The black-bearded Rupert and Murtagh were holding six horses outside, muttering soft Gaelic endearments to them in the dark. It was a moonless night, and Claire looked up in wonder. She had never seen so many stars. How far had they traveled and where were the city lights? _“What town?”_ The woman had asked. The war was over and there wouldn’t be any blackouts. How could she have traveled so far away from the city? Claire suddenly felt cold. What if this really was a lucid dream? It had to be. Did Frank put her back in the hospital? Was she being drugged again? Claire’s body started to shiver. 

While Claire was lost in thoughts, Dougal was still holding Claire’s arm leading her toward the horses.  
“Jamie, get yourself up,” he called. “The lass will ride with you.” He squeezed her arm and leaned in close to her. “You can hold the reins, if Jamie canna manage one-handed, but do take care to keep close with the rest of us. Should ye try anything else, I shall cut your throat. D’ye understand me?”  
Claire nodded, her throat too dry to answer. He leaned in close so that her body was nearly flush against him. With a grunt, Dougal grabbed Claire’s waist and hoisted her up on the horse in front of Jamie, who gathered her close with his good arm. Claire was grateful for the young Scot’s warmth. He smelt strongly of woodsmoke, blood, and sweat, but the night chill bit through her thin dress and she was happy enough to lean back against him.

They rode off into the moonlight. There was little conversation among the men. They were silent and watchful. Jamie had no trouble at all riding and Claire could feel his strong thighs behind hers shifting and pressing occasionally to guide the horse. Claire relaxed into his broad chest. She felt so safe and warm in his strong arms. She had never seen a man so muscularly built. She wanted to touch him. Dreams were penalty free zones. There were no rules. No obligations. Frank had already betrayed their marriage anyway. It was only natural she would dream about tending to such a handsome patient. 

Claire sighed and leaned more into Jamie. Doing something she’d never do awake was the whole point of dreams. She wanted that thrill of being audacious and sexy. She slowly moved her hands up his muscular thighs.  
Jamie let out a hiss, “What are ye doin’ lass?” He whispered quietly.  
“I’m sorry,” Claire said softly feeling her face burn with embarrassment. She could feel him harden beneath his kilt. Claire discreetly tried to move her backside away from him, but only succeeded in rubbing up against him even more.  
“Doona think to distract me”, Jamie whispered. “The English could be anywhere. We’re no’ safe here”.  
Claire turned her head to look up to him. She could see his blue eyes burning. He wanted her. Claire’s heart fluttered and she turned and relaxed again into his chest.  
“But I’m just dreaming now. I’m asleep and this is just my dream.”  
“You’re no’ sleeping” he said shaking his head. _This lass says the daftest things._  
Claire suddenly became gripped by fear. Her stomach began churning. _If this isn’t a dream, where were they taking her... and why?_

After a while of riding Claire finally asked, “Jamie, where are we going?”  
At last he laughed shortly. “Tell ye the truth, lassie, I don’t know. Reckon we’ll both find out when we get there, eh?”  
Something seemed faintly familiar to Claire about the section of countryside through which they were passing.  
“Cocknammon Rock! I’ve seen this before!” Claire exclaimed.  
“Aye, reckon,” Jamie replied, unexcited by this revelation.  
“Didn’t the English use it for ambushes?” Claire asked, trying to remember the dreary details of local history Frank had spent hours explaining to her.  
“Tck.” He clucked to his horse and urged it up alongside Dougal’s, engaging the burly shadow in quiet Gaelic conversation. The horses slowed to a walk. At a signal from Dougal, Jamie, Murtagh, and Rupert dropped back, while the other two spurred up and galloped toward the rock, a quartermile ahead to the right.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a musket fired off and a shriek behind them. Then they were suddenly racing toward the rock across the heather with Murtagh and the other man alongside. Claire screamed and held on for dear life. More screams and bellows split the night air from a distance.  
Jamie grabbed Claire around the waist and dumped her into a large gorse bush. The horse whirled sharply and sprinted off again.

Claire extricated herself from the bush as she heard the occasional musket shot and shouts in the distance. This was her chance to escape. She ran away from the sounds and navigated as best she could in the moonlight. This was her dream, wasn’t it? She didn’t know where she was running to, but the thought of seeing another English Dragoon frightened her. Especially and evil Dragoon with black eyes that looks like Frank. Clearly her subconscious was trying to get a point across.  
Claire came upon a road when a figure appeared. She was about to scream when she heard the familiar voice.  
“Dinna worry, lass. ’Tis me.” Jamie said.  
“I hope you didn’t hurt your shoulder.” She said walking to him. She stared at Jamie in the moonlight. He was taller than any man she ever met in her life.  
“That wee stramash didna do it any good,” he admitted, massaging the shoulder with his free hand.  
Claire walked over and put her hands on his chest and ‘listened’ with her diagnostic sense to his body.  
Jamie shivered at her touch. “What are ye doing?”  
“I’m want to see if you are hurt” She replied.  
“Nay, pay it no mind. This isna my blood. Not much of it, anyway,” he added, plucking the soaked fabric gingerly away from his body.  
Claire’s diagnostic sense told her otherwise. She could sense the rapid blood loss from a new wound.  
“Jamie, you got shot and stabbed!” She exclaimed.  
In her mind’s eye, she saw the wound when she touched him. “Jamie we must tend to this. You are not all right! What sort of idiot gets himself knifed and doesn’t even want take care of it? You are bleeding very badly.” Claire demanded his whisky and poured it on the wound. She tore the edges of her skirt to make bandages to stop the bleeding. When she was done she instructed him not to move his arm.  
Jamie agreed and said, “Let’s go now. Dougal and the others will be waiting by the road”. 

Claire reluctantly followed him to where the other men were waiting.  
Dougal was furious “Jamie, I hardly think now is the time to bed down with the lass in the heather, do ye?”  
“He was hurt! I had to bandage him! Can’t you see how much blood he has lost?” Claire exclaimed.  
Dougal passed Jamie the flask going around with the men.  
“No” Claire said. “He needs water, not whisky!”  
“Tend to your business, woman,” Dougal ordered. “We’ve a good way to go yet tonight, and he’ll need whatever strength the drink can give him.” He handed Jamie the flask.  
“Feisty wee bitch, is she no?” said Jamie, sounding amused.

Jamie got back on his horse and Claire was hoisted up once again in front of him. Claire leaned back as Jamie once again held her firmly with his good arm. Claire touched his injured arm lightly and willed it to heal and then fell asleep in his arms. Her head fell back and she breathed out a sigh. Jamie ground his teeth, willing his body not to react to the soft curves pressed to his—the derriere that if he allowed himself, he could fully imagine sliding his hands over as passion gripped him. God’s teeth, it was going to be a long ride back to the Keep.


	12. The Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire get some alone time when they arrive at Leoch and she tends to his wounds... the attraction is in mutual... the first kiss is always the best! Claire still doesn’t know she’s traveled back through time.... she just thinks she’s with some Scottish eccentrics... like the Amish... or something

They reached their destination at dawn. The surrounding areas were no longer deserted. There was a trickle of rudely dressed people, heading toward the keep. It was a fortress, garrisoned by fighters. The castle itself was blunt and solid.  
“Where are we?” Claire asked slowly waking in Jamie’s arms. “The keep of Leoch,” he answered shortly.

“Ay, Dougal!” shouted a tattered hostler, running up to grab the halter of the lead horse. “You’re early, man; we hadna thought to see ye before the Gathering!”  
Dougal swung down from the saddle, leaving the reins to the grubby youth. “Aye, well, we’ve had some luck, both good and bad. I’m off to see my brother. Will ye summon Mrs. Fitz to feed the lads? They’ll need their breakfasts and their beds.”  
He beckoned Murtagh and Rupert down to accompany him, and together they disappeared under a pointed archway.

The rest of them dismounted. Claire was so sore she could barley walk when she got off the horse. Jamie helped steady her as Mrs. Fitz walked up to them.  
“Willy, my dear!” she cried. “How good to see ye! And Neddie!” She gave the small balding man a hearty buss of welcome that nearly knocked him over. “Ye’ll be needin’ breakfast, I reckon. Plenty in the kitchen; do ye go and feed yerselves.”  
She then turned to Claire and Jamie and started back as though bitten by a snake. She looked openmouthed at Claire, then turned to Jamie for an explanation.

“Claire,” he said, “Allow me to introduce Mistress FitzGibbons,” he added, “Murtagh found her yesterday, and Dougal said we must bring her along with us,” making it clear it was no good blaming him.  
Mistress FitzGibbons closed her mouth and looked Claire up and down with shrewd evaluation. Then she smiled—kindly, despite several missing teeth—and took Claire by the arm.  
“Well then, Claire. Welcome to ye. Come wi’ me and we shall find ye somethin’ a bit more … mmm.” She looked over her short skirt and inadequate shoes, shaking her head.  
“Wait”, Claire said. “My patient. I must tend to Jamie. He is hurt. He was shot and stabbed and I couldn’t properly dress the wounds. I must clean them before they get infected.”  
“Infected?” She asked.  
“Enflamed,” Claire said “Pus with swelling and fever.”  
“Oh, aye, I know what ye mean. But do ye mean to say as ye know what to do for that? Are ye a charmer then? A Beaton?”  
“I’m a doctor” Claire said.  
Mistress FitzGibbons looked at her curiously, but then called back Jamie and led them both into the castle. She took them down several long corridors until they reached a room with a bed, a couple of chairs and a fire.

Mistress FitzGibbons sat Jamie on a stool by the fire and gently got the remains of his tattered shirt off, replacing it with a warm quilt from the bed. She clucked at his shoulder, which was bruised and swollen, and poked at Claire’s clumsy dressing.  
“I think that will need to be soaked off. Then we’ll have to make a solution for cleansing it.” Claire said.  
“What will ye be needin?” She simply asked.  
“What medicines do you have?” Claire asked.  
“Och, Our healer, the Beaton, is deid and we have no’ had a healer in the castle ‘cept myself.” She said.  
Claire thought for a moment. She noticed the castle was not modernized yet with electricity or running water. There was nothing here. No town nearby, no doctor, and no medicine. “Garlic?” She asked. “Garlic, and if you have it, witch hazel. Also I’ll need several clean rags and a kettle of water for boiling.”  
“Aye, well, I think we can manage that; perhaps a bit of comfrey as well. What about a bit o’ boneset tea, or chamomile? T’lad looks as though it’s been a long night.”  
Jamie and Claire were both swaying with weariness.  
_Mrs. FitzGibbons would make a fine nurse,_ Claire thought.  
She soon returned with an apron full of garlic bulbs, gauze bags of dried herbs, and torn strips of old linen. A small black iron kettle hung from one meaty arm, and she held a large demijohn of water. Claire set about to boiling the water.  
“Thank you … ah, Mrs. FitzGibbons,” She said respectfully. “I can manage now, if you have things to do.”  
“Ah, lass! There aye be things for me to do! I’ll send a bit o’ broth up for ye. Do ye call oot if ye need anything else.” She waddled to the door with surprising speed.

Claire set about soaking Jamie’s bandages so she could carefully remove them. Fresh blood oozed from the edges of the wound. Claire apologized for hurting Jamie although he was silent the entire time.  
“No worry lass, I’ve been hurt much worse and by people much less bonny”. He said with a hint of a smile.  
Claire’s face turned red as she remembered feeling him up on horseback. She went about washing the wound hoping he didn’t notice her blush.  
“Sounds like you’ve been in some dangerous situations,” Claire said cautiously.  
“I have been, I’m also a dangerous man. It’s a wonder you feel safe in the same room alone with me” Jamie said.  
“Well, you look harmless enough at the moment.” This was entirely untrue; shirtless and blood-smeared, with stubbled cheeks and reddened eyelids from the long night ride, he looked thoroughly disreputable. And tired or not, he looked entirely capable of further mayhem, should the need arise. Claire couldn’t help but find the man attractive in spite of his appearance and fantasies of a savage warrior with no law but his own filled her head.

Jamie laughed, a surprisingly deep, infectious sound. “I’m as harmless as a setting dove,” he agreed. “I’m too hungry to be a threat to anything but breakfast. Let a stray bannock come within reach, though, and I’ll no answer for the consequences. Ooh!”  
“Sorry,” Claire muttered. “The stab wound’s deep, and it’s dirty.” Claire concentrated on getting all the dirt out. She put her hands on his shoulders and listened once again to his body. She opened her eyes and continued her work all the while admiring his backside. Aside from a couple small scars, Jamie’s back was smooth and sleek skin with the outlines of his muscles rippling through.  
“Jamie, what will you do about those men? The ones that shot you?” Claire asked cautiously. She was very confused.  
“Naught can be done. The redcoats patrol the lands in search of outlaws. We were in the middle of a raid when the troops spotted us,” he said.  
“Redcoats?” Claire asked in a bewildered tone. She paused dressing his arm for a moment and Jamie leaned forward. “No, don’t do that!” Claire said. “I’m going to bind your arm. I want you to stay off using this arm until I tell you it is safe to do so”.  
Claire went about binding his arm thinking over what he said. Perhaps the authorities in The Highlands patrolled on horseback. She gently touched Jamie’s arm and secured the bandages. She felt an intimacy with Jamie she had never felt with anyone except her husband.

When his strapping was finished, Claire helped him ease into his linen shirt. Jamie looked her in the eye.  
“I thank ye, Claire.” While tending him, he had noticed her eyes riveted to his bared skin. ’Haps he affected her just as much as she did him. He reached over with his hand to touch her face but then thought better of it and moved away.  
Claire grabbed his hand. She lifted it up to her face and caressed his palm against her cheek. She looked into Jamie’s eyes and thought about all the events of the last day. She didn’t even know where she was. Claire was suddenly overwhelmed and turned her head while she burst into tears.  
Jamie grabbed her hand, “What is it lass?” He said softly.  
“I don’t know where I am! I need to contact my family and find my way home!” Claire cried and Jamie then sat on a stool. He gathered Claire into his arms and rocked her gently while she wept bitterly into his chest. He whispered soft Gaelic into her ear while smoothing down her hair and rubbing her neck. Claire soon began to calm down. She felt safe with him.  
“How long do I have to stay here? When will I be allowed to go home?” She asked quietly.  
“I dinna ken,” he replied softly.  


As Claire’s crying calmed down, she began to touch Jamie’s chest. She ran her fingers lightly over him, outlining the curve of every muscle and then felt him harden under his kilt. Claire slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was gazing at her with a half lidded stare. Claire wanted to kiss him. She turned her face up questioning and he carefully leaned down to meet her lips in answer.

His lips coaxed her gently with small nibbles and Claire responded eagerly. She pressed her lips against him as if she couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue faintly brushed between her lips and her mouth dropped open ever so slightly with a soft sigh, and his tongue slipped in. Claire was beginning to become aware of the tingling sensations all over her body and she let out a soft moan. Jamie deepened this kiss and she shivered at the intensity of pleasure it brought her. Her limbs weakened and his arm went around her waist to steady her even more. She felt the muscles in his arm contract and marvelled at the power in them. This seemed to heat up Claire’s body even more.

Jamie held her close, much too close. He could feel her erect nipples against his chest. A kiss. A simple kiss was all he intended, but when his lips touched hers, everything changed, and even more so when she responded so passionately. It was as if she had never been kissed before and that thought aroused him immensely. He warned himself to end it, not to let it go too far, but she was too intoxicating. One taste wasn’t enough, he wanted more. Much more. He eased his lips away from her but kept his good arm tucked around her. “Sorcha” he whispered.  
Claire’s body stiffened. With a questioning look on her face she stared into his eyes. “It’s you’re name in Gaelic” he said “It means light” he explained.  
“You’ve called me that before”, Claire whispered in his ear. Claire then rested her head in his arm and they gazed upon each other.  
Jamie looked upon Claire’s red eyes and tear stained face sympathetically. _The poor lass so was exhausted and frightened she’s no even making sense,_ he thought.  
“You need not be scairt of me,” he said softly. “Nor of anyone here, so long as I’m with ye.”  
He then help Claire stand up and put her gently into bed using his good arm. “Do sleep a bit, Claire. You’re worn out, and likely someone will want to talk with ye before too long.”  
“Don’t leave me” she whispered.  
“I’ll see you in the morning. I promise Claire..” He told her as he walked to the door.

As he left the room he saw Claire’s eyes were shut. She was probably already asleep. Jamie left the room feeling very confused. He wanted Claire from the first moment he saw her. She stood in her simple white shift like a magnificent rose with her glorious hair falling down around her. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He thought maybe she was even a fairy or a ghost. In spite of his pain, he had seen the lascivious looks his other clansmen gave her in the cottage and it made him angry.

He walked down the castle hallways, adjusting his sporran to keep his kilt from tenting. Claire had aroused him immensely. He was badly in need of food and sleep. And Claire. His lady in white. Jamie arrived at his room and decided to wait until breakfast in the morning to eat. He was trying to undress with his good arm when he heard a familiar knock on his door. _Laoghaire_.

Jamie opened the door and Laoghaire came in with a tray of food. “James, I ken ye are hurt and needin’ yer rest, but I couldna resist bringin’ ye a wee bit of food. And I was wantin’ to see ye,” she said sweetly as she placed the tray on a table.  
Jamie took a bannock off the tray and a sip of some soup. “I’m too tired for company tonight.” He replied in a bored tone.  
Laoghaire quickly made herself busy attending to his fire. “I kent that,” she replied with perfect indifference, “James, ye’re hurt and ye’re needin’ some help.” She slowly walked over to him with continued admiration. “Let me help ye undress”. Jamie stood silently as she carefully removed his garments. She placed his clothing down neatly while Jamie got into bed naked with his cock still hard from his earlier kiss with Claire.  
Laoghaire was pleased with herself when she undressed James. As usual, James wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She smiled as she blew out the candle lights and began to slowly remove her own garments. 

Jamie watched her as she removed her clothing. Laoghaire had long blond hair and pale blue eyes with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance. She had a round face with plump cheeks and full lips. She was a stout, well grown girl of 18 years of age. Her short stature emphasized her full hips and curvy thighs. She had high animal spirits, which attracted the attention of many of the MacKenzie men of Leoch. Jamie was no exception. She came to his bed and crawled on top of him “James Fraser, I want ye.” She whispered.  
Jamie closed his eyes as Laoghaire slowly lowered herself on his painfully stiff cock. It felt like he’d been erect for years sitting behind Claire on his horse. He kept his eyes closed and imagined Claire as Laoghaire worked herself on him in her usual rhythm. Jamie imagined it was Claire over him, her lovely curly long dark hair falling over her perfect breasts. He pictured her green eyes smoldering with desire. Laoghaire moaned as she quickened her pace. Jamie was imagining the kiss with Claire and the wee noises she made. It was too much, and he called out as he had a powerful release. “Sorcha” he cried and immediately fell asleep.

Laoghaire stroked his chest and carefully laid down next to a sleeping Jamie. She knew he didn’t love her, but she was desperately in love with him. She knew James Fraser was the only man for her since the first time they met when she came to work at the keep. Despite her flirtations with others, she was determined to wed James and no other.  
“I love ye James Fraser and one day ye’ll be mine”. She whispered in his ear. She then slowly crawled out of bed and got dressed and quietly left his chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note... not following book characters... loosely using outlander original story.... I took scenes I like from the book to get Claire into the past...  
> Jamie has NOT been whipped and does not have the scars.... nor does he have a price on his head... oh yeah, he’s not a virgin!


	13. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire freaks out waking up in a strange place when Mrs. FitzGibbons comes to take Claire to lathe Laird... she finds herself in trouble, but Jamie comes to the rescue! Claire still hasn’t realized she’s time traveled...

Claire awoke in an extreme state of confusion. She didn’t know where she was but she had the vague feeling something was wrong. She slept so soundly that she didn’t have any dreams. When she heard the familiar Scottish accent calling her to wake up, she felt relief that she was home in her bed at Uncle Lamb’s. Mrs. Crook always woke her up too early. Claire rolled over then opened her eyes suddenly. She remembered that Mrs. Crook had passed away. She looked up at the unfamiliar woman trying to wake her. Mistress FitzGibbons! The sight of her shocked Claire back to full consciousness, and she began to scream. 

“Goodness, my dear! Please stop yer fussin’! I must get ye ready and take ye to himself!” She said firmly Claire.  
Claire was not only confused but couldn’t understand what the woman was referring to. This only frightened her more.  
“Please, let me be!” Claire began to cry. She hoped it was all a bad dream and she would wake up next to Frank, but she was still in this strange castle. Where was she? “I’ve got to wake up for this nightmare,” Claire whispered through tears.  
Mistress FitzGibbons tried to pull the bed clothes off her, but Claire was stubborn.  
“Stop that!” Claire yelled. “Give me some time to pull myself together.”  
“Ye must come _now_ lass”, Mrs. FitzGibbons said firmly. “Ye canna keep himself waiting!”  
“I can get myself ready! Please give me some time,” Claire insisted.  
The plump woman had no other choice but to leave the room. As she opened the door to exit the room Claire cried out. “Mistress FitzGibbons... wait! Can you please take me to a telephone? I must call my husband.”  
“Tele... What do ye mean, lass?” Mistress FitzGibbons responded with a confused look.  
“A telephone! You have one here at the castle? A telephone, please!” She pleaded.  
“Aye, lass” Mistress FitzGibbons said slowly as she left the room.  
“Dear god, please let me be able to call Frank or Uncle Lamb,” Claire prayed with hope. If she could only find a telephone, she would be able to get help.

Colum ban Campbell MacKenzie was fifty five years old. He was shorter than his brother Dougal and thickset. He had powerful arms and and legs and a trunk as solid as an oak tree. Even at his age, he could break a man’s back if he managed to lock him. In his youth, the MacKenzie had been feared and hated by his enemies, but loved by his clansmen, because there was simply no one like him in a fight. 

When James Stuart, the rightful King of Scotland, returned from exile in France and tried to wrest his throne back from the English in the rising of 1715, Colum MacKenzie had dragged his men away from their fields and their cattle and ridden out to do battle.  
He was fortunate in suffering no more than a heavy fine for his part in the Rebellion, for along with his courage he possessed a high degree of cunning, and he had made useful friends among the Scots who governed on behalf of England. While other men lost their heads and their estates, Leoch remained safe. But he had never forgiven the money he had given to bribe his way out of treason. If there was anyone he hated, it was King George II of England and the English. Not since the last rising has a _Sassenach_ stepped foot into his keep.

When Misstress FitzGibbons entered his study and told him the _Sassenach_ refused to meet with him, he was furious! Nobody disobeyed the Laird! Especially not a _Sassenach!_ “Bring Dougal at once!” He shouted impatiently. His brother had much to answer for.

Dougal was nervous as he entered the laird’s study. His brother was easily angered and not too pleased over their stramash with the English soldiers.  
Colum turned with blazing eyes to face his brother. “What were your intentions bringing a _Sassenach_ to Leoch?” He demanded.  
“She was in distress. She also has a bit of knowledge about doctorin’ and young Jamie was badly hurt. We dinna want to leave her for the Redcoats to find.” Dougal explained.  
“This is no’ place for her here,” Colum said. “She’s hysterical and locked herself in her room. She’s disobeyed Laird’s orders! She’s no’ of right mind. You’ll bring an English lassie here, just for the sake of bedding a woman? There are plenty of Scottish leddies available!”  
Dougal listened silently in fear his brother’s temper. Carefully he asked “What do ye suppose we should do about it now? The lass is still locked in the room.”  
“Get some guards. Force open that door and put her in the tower. Have a maid bring her bread and water and naught else. I need time to think. Now go!” Colum yelled.

MacKenzie guards dragged a screaming and hysterical Claire through castle to the tower. She tried to resist but it was useless. She was locked in a room with no bed, just some hay and a bucket of water and another empty bucket to see to her needs. Claire scratched at the door and begged to be let out. There was only a small window that let in very little light. There no heat and she was freezing in her tattered dress. She could go into hypothermia! What if she died in here? Claire started to panic. Her memories of helplessness confinement at the psychiatric hospital resurfaced. Then she prayed no one would come in the room and restrain her. At least she could still move around the small room.

Jamie was furious. He had been tending to the horses when word finally reached him that Colum confined the Sassenach to the tower. He ran as fast as he could back to the castle to find Claire. There were guards posted in front of the steps to the tower.  
“Let me pass,” Jamie said as he moved towards the stairs. He was immediately shoved back.  
“Laird’s orders!” The guard shouted.  
Jamie thought he could easily crush both the guard’s skulls at once, but decided it was better not to take any risk in upsetting his Uncle. 

Jamie quickly made his way through the castle to his Uncle’s chamber and knocked anxiously on the door for several minutes. A smug Rupert, who was Colum’s youngest brother, finally opened the door.  
“Another time lad! Laird’s busy!” He said dismissively and then moved to close the door in Jamie’s face.  
Jamie stopped the door just before it closed completely. “I’ll wait right here” he growled. Then allowed the door to close. He stared at the closed door in disbelief. What in the devil had happened in the short time since he saw Claire that she should be locked up? Jamie thought of the previous night when he held her in his arms. He needed to see Claire. He had promised her he would keep her safe. 

Jamie was fuming while pacing the hallway for some time when his Uncle’s door finally opened once more. Colum sat calmly behind his desk while Rupert was sitting across from him drinking his wine.  
“Nephew! What a great surprise! Come in and have a drink with us!” Colum said cheerfully with a smile.  
Jamie was put on edge. “Thank you Uncle.” He replied coolly as he stepped in and closed the door. He poured himself a glass and calmly sat across from his Uncles.  
“What did ye wish to speak with me about?” Colum asked curiously after taking a sip of his wine.  
“It’s about Claire, I heard you’ve locked her in the tower” Jamie said with measured control.  
Colum’s face darkened. “The _Sassenach!_ No’ you too lad!” He said shaking his head. “First my brother, now my nephew. Are ye bewitched? Because if she’s a witch, the tower is exactly where the _Sassenach_ should stay!” He said forcefully.  
Jamie paused. This was not the reaction he was expecting. He calmly asked “And what crime did she commit that ye needed to lock the lass up?”  
“Well, besides being a _Sassenach,_ which is the same as being the devil, that insolent _lass_ defied my summons and locked herself in her room! Am I no’ Laird of this Keep? If she wants to be locked in a _room_ , then she will be locked in the room in the tower!” Colum shouted.  
Jamie stood up. “She’s a good lass Uncle. She tended to my wounds twice. She warned us of an ambush by the English. She has many fine virtues. She might havena known it was Laird’s orders. Did ye no’ think of that?” He argued.  
“Virtues!” Colum exclaimed. “You were lying with scullery maids at 14 years old! And you dare speak to me of virtues. Doona think you may question my orders!”  
Jamie started to panic. He looked over at a drunk Rupert who was smirking at him. Rupert had little conversation and little mental process. He was essentially a savage and out of his time for his 24 years. Jamie looked back at Colum but his face did not soften.  
“What must I do to move you Uncle? Please allow me visit her in the tower. I swore she was under my protection! Haven’t I always done everything you’ve asked me?” He said unable to keep his voice from rising.  
“No’ everything”, Colum said in a icy voice. He looked at Jamie knowingly. “The Gathering will take place in a sennight. Perhaps there is a way everyone can get what they want. Enough now Jamie. Out of my site. Go to the tower. No stopping a fool!” Jamie got up and quickly left the room. 

Colum sat back and poured another drink for himself and his youngest brother. He would get Jamie to kiss the iron and change his name to MacKenzie at the gathering just by giving him a _Sassenach_ whore to rut! Colum couldn’t help but smile in appreciation of his own canniness.

Jamie went back to the tower and quickly climbed the stairs. When he was outside the cell, he could here Claire crying. Jamie knew he could bear pain, but he was having difficulty with hers.  
“Claire, It’s Jamie” he said through the door.  
“Jamie! Oh Jamie” he heard her say as she rushed over to the door. “Jamie please, get me out of here!” She put her hands up to the door. “I’m freezing to death! And it’s dark and I’m frightened!” She began to cry again.  
“I will Claire, you have nothing to fear. I will get ye out and all will be well. You are safe with me.” He said.  
“Jamie don’t leave me!” Claire cried through the door.  
“I’m here Claire, I’ll never leave ye.” He vowed. Just then he heard footsteps up the stairs. Murtagh walked before him and dropped the keys in Jamie’s lap.  
“Laird seys _‘You’re protection’_ ” he mumbled and shrugged with an “Mmmmphm” and walked away.  
Jamie understood. He was responsible for her safety and would be punished for any trouble she caused. “I’m opening the door Claire!” Jamie yelled. And within moments he was holding Claire in his arms.  
Claire was crying into his chest and holding him tight. “Oh, your shoulder!” She gasped as she grabbed him too tightly.  
“I’m fine”, he said rocking her gently. He kissed the top of her head and Claire looked up. He couldn’t resist kissing her again. He felt jolts of electricity through his body as his lips moved against her. She met his lips eagerly while moving her body closer. She was shivering and her body was cold to the touch. Reluctantly, Jamie pulled away. “Och lass, we must get out of here now!” Jamie surveyed the miserable surroundings and had to push down his rage. He wanted to throttle his uncle. “Let me take you to your new chambers.” he said.

He led Claire through a maze of hallways and brought her to a new room. It was much bigger space with a king bed, a desk, a sofa with matching chairs and a fire roaring in a large fireplace that heated the room entirely. She was filthy from the tower and still in the clothes she arrived in. He set her before the fire then put a quilt around her shoulders.  
“I will return soon”, he said gently.  
Claire grabbed his hand. “No, please stay.” She pleaded. She looked up at him with a tear stained face. “I’m going to stay here? In this room? It’s huge!”  
“Aye. This room belongs to the castle’s Mistress. The Laird’s wife died many years ago and he never remarried. You will be safe here. I must go now, but will come back soon. I promise ye mo duinne. You need some supper and a clean shift,” he said gently.  
Claire nodded in agreement. As frightened as she was, she knew she could trust Jamie’s word completely. He was not lying. Claire watched him leave and then put her hands before the fire to warm them. She didn’t feel like she would ever get warm again. As her fingers absorbed the heat, she couldn’t help but close her eyes. She felt weak and exhausted. 

She closed her eyes and dreamt of the giant stones. She felt the strange sensation of falling endlessly until she awoke some time later to noise in the room. Jamie had brought a bath and Mrs. FitzGibbons was filling it with hot water. When she was done she whispered something to Jamie. He walked her to the door. He was saying something that Claire couldn’t hear. She saw Mrs. FitzGibbons look at her sympathetically. She then looked at Jamie. She clicked her tongue but nodded to him and left the room. Jamie barred the door.  
“Claire” he said gently. “Do you want to take a hot bath? We have to warm ye, lass.” Jamie thought her lips looked almost blue.  
After days of riding to the keep on horseback and being locked in the cold tower for a day, a bath sounded like heaven. “Yes Jamie, please!” she whispered. Her thoughts were fuzzy. She was weak from hunger and the cold. Claire stood and allowed Jamie to undress her. She was too exhausted to feel any modesty at all in front of him and her limbs felt limp and numb. 

Jamie tried to remove her filthy dress. It had strange metal hooks and a metal lining down the back.  
“Where are the laces?” he asked.  
“It’s a zipper” Claire said. “Just pull the little white handle down.” Claire reached behind and gave it a pull.  
Jamie removed her odd garment and had to step back a moment in shock.  
“What manner of dress is this lass?” He asked quietly.  
Claire blushed. She forgot she was still wearing her new lingerie. The white lace bustier and matching panties were the most frivolous things she ever bought.  
Jamie stared at her fascinated. He stepped closer and put a single finger under the edge of her bustier.  
“And what is this?” He asked. He noticed it was adorned with little bows. _’Just like a wee present for me,’_ he thought.  
“Oh...” Claire said. She was finding it hard to form a complete sentence. She closed her eyes as his fingers were still on her.  
“It’s a brazier. It’s French. It’s designed to push a woman’s... you know... It keeps them from... you know....” She managed to squeak out.  
“Nay, I donna think I know at all,” he said softly, his lips a few breaths from meeting hers. “Why donna you enlighten me?” He tugged at the strap. “What does this keep “you knows” from doing?”  
Claire looked at him. Was he teasing her? “You know exactly what it’s for! They push a woman’s “you knows” up and keep them from drooping when they get older.”  
Jamie then let out a laugh. Claire shook her head.  
“Very amusing Jamie.” Claire said defensively. “I’m too tired and cold for humor.”  
He took her gently by the arm. “Let’s put you in the bath then before the water’s cold”. He guided her to the tub and helped her in while still wearing her undergarments. He couldn’t bring himself to strip her naked. He would lose all control if he did. He respected her too much to take her like a savage. He sat down behind her on a stool and picked up one of the water jugs. “Allow me to wash your hair now” he said and he gently tilted her head back. He poured water down her cascading locks and then with the soap began to massage her scalp.

Relaxing into his care, Claire closed her eyes in bliss. The heat of the water was removing the chill from her bones. Jamie massaged her head gently with his good arm then carefully rinsed the soap from her hair.  
“Jamie, why is there no running water or electricity in this castle. I noticed there are only candles lit in every room. Is Leoch under some kind of historical preservation? I’ve been to other castles in Scotland that at least have electricity... flushing toilets as well,” she asked wearily.  
“I dinna ken what you mean Claire,” he answered after a moment of silence.  
“Lights... There are no lights here. Is it not a fire hazard to only light the castle with candles and oil lanterns?”  
“Well, the castle is made from stone. I dinna think it will burn to the ground. Do you mean to tell me that you dinna use candles or lanterns?” He asked.  
“No, we don’t. We use electricity, what century do you think you’re living in anyway? And why is everyone in this castle wearing a costume? I don’t understand,” Claire said exasperated. She was not in the mood for more teasing.  
Jamie was silent as he continued rinsing her hair with water.  
“Well?” Claire asked. “Are you going to answer?”  
“Claire, we are living in the 18th century, and I dinna understand your question.” He replied slowly.  
“Is that so? And may I ask you what is the date?” Claire continued feeling annoyed.  
“It’s The 3rd day of May in the year of our lord 1744,” he answered.  
Claire closed her eyes and fell silent for a time while she simply allowed herself to be soothed by the bath. Using her diagnostic sense, she had the alarming feeling that he was telling her the truth.

Jamie lifted her arm and began to slowly and sensually move the soap down from her shoulder to her hand. Claire felt her body heating up from more than just the hot bath.  
“’Tis a fine ring Claire. So are ye married then?” He asked as he held her left hand.  
Claire was speechless. Jamie has just informed her that the year was 1744. Now he was asking about her husband? She was still waiting for him to quit with his pranks. Claire laughed sardonically.  
“Och, I didna ken that was a joke lass” Jamie said bewildered by her reaction.  
“No, it’s not a joke Jamie. I don’t know if I am married. I’m beginning to think that I’m not married anymore.” Claire said sarcastically.  
“So, are you widowed, then?” Jamie asked in a sympathetic voice.  
“Well, yes... I suppose I am. My husband is... not alive now... at this date in time,” She replied. She would play his game for now.  
“You have my sympathies Claire” he said earnestly.  
She sat silently while Jamie continued to wash her. His movements were deliberately slow as he soaped and rinsed her body.  
“That is a verra beautiful emerald you are wearing Claire. It matches your eyes. What is that other wee symbol ye have on?” He asked while gazing upon her neck.  
“This is a present a fortune teller gave me on my 16th birthday. It was rumored that she was a witch. She told me my future and gave me this charm for protection. I haven’t taken it off since... I think it brings me good luck as well as protection,” she said.  
Jamie felt momentary chill up his spine when he heard the word ‘witch’. Column had called her that. _No, no’ a witch, she’s a fairy,_ he thought as he washed and lightly caressed her limbs. Her skin was so smooth and perfect like ivory. There were no callouses on her hands. She had the skin of a lady. The little clothing she had was verra fine. She was no’ a whore or a maid. She was a lady with some education. Claire was a mystery and just looking at her pulled at his heart and made his blood run hot.  
“Come lass, the water is getting cold.” Jamie got up and her a towel. He helped her out of the tub and sat her before the fire to dry. He brought over a tray with some bread, cheese and Meade. “Eat now. Keep this quilt over you and stay covered.” He walked out the door.

He returned later with servants that removed the bath. Jamie was carrying a new shift for Claire to wear to bed, as well as a new dress, stockings and slippers to wear the next day.  
Jamie handed Claire the clean shift. “Claire, a dry shift for you sleep in. You can change behind that curtain. And you can hang your wet ‘you knows’ to dry there” he said.  
Claire thanked him and got up to put on her clean clothing. As she stood her blanket fell open and Jamie got another glimpse of her French undergarments. It left nothing to his imagination. He shifted to keep his arousal from being obvious and sat down in front of the fire to eat some of the bread and cheese. 

Claire walked over to him wearing her clean shift. He could see the outlines of her curves through the material. She looked at him and her green eyes were half closed with sleep.  
“Ye must get some rest now Claire”. He stood up and to guide her to the bed.  
“Fine, but after I check on your arm first. I need to see if it’s healing properly.” She replied.  
“Mrs. FitzGibbons already changed my bandages. I’m healing well.” He said. But Claire insisted. She walked over to him and helped him out of his sark. She inspected all the wounds carefully under the bandages.  
“There’s still some swelling but no torn muscle. You’ve healed up nicely. I think these bandages can come off” she said.  
“Thank Christ,” Jamie replied. “It’s been chaffing me all day.”

Claire slipped the harness off and removed the dressings. When she was done, she ran her hands over his broad and muscular chest. She looked up at Jamie with a hunger in her eyes that matched his own.  
“You must get some rest now.” He whispered and she allowed him to put her to bed.  
“You’ll stay with me tonight Jamie?” Claire asked as she made room on the bed. “I cannot be alone in this castle.” She suddenly felt frightened at the thought of being alone. Jamie’s presence kept her calm and she didn’t want him to leave. She was also finding herself very attracted to this Highlander. Tomorrow, she would ask him to take her to a phone and she would call Uncle Lamb. Perhaps, when she returned home they could keep in touch. She even contemplated divorcing Frank for a moment. Althought, that was a foolish thought. She just met this Highlander. No... Like for Like. A fling would do... just as Frank had done to her.  
“Aye” he said. He walked over to put back on his sark before removing his boots and kilt. He wanted Claire badly but he wouldn’t take her just yet. He wouldn’t take Claire like a common harlot.

He got into bed with her as she gazed at him and he immediately placed his mouth upon hers. He moved his lips against her softly then pulled his head back and cupped her face with his hand. “You are a beauty Claire”, he whispered. “With your long legs and beautiful hair... your eyes glitter like emeralds. I have seen many bonny lasses but I donna believe I’ve met anyone like you. Ye make me think I might encounter parts of myself that I didna know existed.” He whispered.  
Claire looked up at him breathlessly. She had never felt this wildly attracted to any man before. She put her arms around him and drew down his head and kissed him, long and passionately. She impulsively moved her hand over his thigh to feel his hard length.  
“Och Claire, doona do that.” He said moving her hand away.  
“Jamie, what did I do wrong?” she asked. His hands and his mouth and the muscles in his magnificent body were all affecting her like a drug.  
“Nothing, Claire... nothing at all...” Jamie whispered.  
She lay looking up at him, her hair loose over her shoulders, as Jamie untied the top of her shift and pushed the fabric aside to free her breasts. Slowly he placed a trail of small kisses down her neck and to the center of her chest. He cupped one breast with his hand and then took her nipple in his mouth and teased it with flicks of his tongue. Claire moaned underneath him. He then moved to the other nipple while massaging her breasts with his hand.  
“Please!” Claire said suddenly. “I want you”.  
“No yet Mo Nighean Donn, let me love you this way...”

Claire tried to shift in the bed, but Jamie pinned her down with a kiss. He plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth. She tasted like mint and honey. He continued to ravage her mouth while slowly working the bottom of her shift up over her hips. He caressed her silken thighs. His hands inched up until he reached the hot crevice between her legs. Then he lightly brushed his fingers down her crease to the wet center of her all the while inching her legs further apart.  
“Oh my god!” Claire gasped. Jamie looked at her mouth parted and eyes darkened with passion. Jamie smiled to himself. He was a master of seduction. _’Mine’_ he thought to himself. 

“I’m going to kiss you some more Claire. Right where it will please ye the most.” He said as he trailed kisses down her stomach and settled himself between her thighs. Claire’s breath quickened as he started to tease her with his tongue and lips. He tasted the sweet saltiness of her. The essence of her making him heady. Claire moaned as she grabbed his hair and pulled and Jamie was so hard he thought he would burst. With her legs trembling he continued to tease her most sensitive center. He could feel she was close so he slipped a finger inside her and Claire fell apart. She cried out loudly and he felt her tighten around his fingers. He continued to tease and kiss her center until her shudders subsided. 

He sat up and moved back next to Claire with the taste of her on his lips. “Jesus H. Christ Jamie!” She said breathlessly as Jamie curled up next to her. “That was the first time... I.. I’ve never... with a man...” Claire trailed off. She had never reached a climax before.  
“You’ve never found your woman’s peak?” Jamie asked.  
“Well.... no.... I guess not”. She replied. Claire thought about Frank for a moment. He had been gentle and felt nice at the time, but she had never felt the full force of pleasure she just experienced with Jamie! Frank never used his mouth on her!  
“No’ with your husband?” He asked.  
“No, never once. I didn’t know it could be... like that...” she said with wonder at this new experience.  
Jamie pulled her close, “I will always please you Claire. Get some sleep”, he whispered with confidence. Claire would be his.  
“But Jamie, I want you. All of you”, she whispered.  
“No’ yet”, he said. “You’re no’ mine yet to take”. He then closed his eyes. _She will be soon,_ he silently vowed.  
Claire looked at him and then closed her eyes. _Not yet? What is he waiting for? Did he expect her to divorce her husband first?_ She had a feeling something was amiss as she quickly fell into a deep slumber.


	14. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie wakes up next to Claire and wants to give her a little pampering in the morning... past lovers get in the way...
> 
> NSFW and any other warning apply! Apologies if content is disturbing to anyone.

Jamie opened his eyes as he was saying “Sorcha”. He looked over and he saw Claire sleeping deeply wrapped up in a cocoon of quilts. She looked just like a fairy with her delicate bones, silky smooth skin and luscious hair. Jamie was in a sweat and had a nocturnal release in his sleep. _”Christ, I’ve spilled on myself just like a 13 year old green lad”_ he thought with disgust. Claire made him feel like a starving animal... and no’ for food.

It was an hour before dawn, but Jamie pushed aside the bed hangings and climbed out of the bed. The temptation was too great lying next Claire. He quietly performed his ablutions and then kilted his plaid about his hips, securing it with a wide leather belt. Pulling the excess material over his shoulder, he pinned it fast with a brooch. As was the habit of any prudent man, even within the safety of his own walls, Jamie sheathed a dirk in the top of his stocking and grabbed his short sword before exiting the room and locking the door behind him. If he was quick, he could attend to his business and still be back when Claire awoke. 

He walked briskly down the darkened bleak hallways. The walls were bare stone, hung here and there with fading tapestries. A chamber pregnant maid still in her shift crossed the hall carrying a pitcher of water. She gave Jamie a suprised look and quickly disappeared into one of the rooms. He sighed. There was no sign in the grim fortress that it ever had a mistress. Colum’s wife died over 20 years ago giving birth to their second child and the babe did not live. His first son died young too, being of weak constitution. The laird employed about a dozen women to run the keep and they were usually pregnant at one time or another from members of the household. Colum thought the prized blood of himself and his brothers as a way of strengthening clan ties and also increasing their staff. 

Jamie was always careful never to spill inside a woman. He wanted no maid or whore bringing his bastard into the world. He thought of the other night with Laoghaire with shame. He had been imagining Claire as Laoghaire rode him and lost all control.  
_’Christ, please doona let her womb quicken with a bairn’_ he thought nervously. Never again would he lie with anyone but Claire. He would never let another scullery maid into his bedchamber. He would never seduce another young virgin from the village. He would never visit the city’s brothels which he knew so well from his student days at the University. After last night, Jamie was certain that he was in love. It was the first time he had given a woman pleasure without seeking his own. And he had enjoyed it. He intended to marry Claire as soon as possible. He had no doubts if she was the right one.

He realized he had been living his life like a wild animal. From the nights he roamed the streets with Dougal and Rupert in Edinburgh looking for women and the drunken fights in brothels to the raiding of lands of weaker clans, stealing their cattle and chasing their people out into the moors. He lived without regret or remorse. That changed when he saw his Sorcha - the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She was the woman of his dreams.

He made his way to the stables to check on a pregnant mare. She was his prize that he named ‘Donas’. Their stable master, Alec, was already up and tending to his duties. Jamie always had a love horses and made a habit of checking in on Alec most mornings before sword practice with the guards.  
“I’ll be back in the morn Alec to check on Donas.” Jamie said as he headed out the door.  
“I’ll have one of my boys come find ye after practice wi’ her condition” Alec called after him.  
“Nay, no’ today. I’m leaving the castle before the noonin” Jamie replied casually.  
Alec laughed. He heard the rumor of the Sassenach he was hiding in the keep. Only a lass could get him to shirk off his duties. “Flies round a honeypot—the lasses after ye!” He called out.

Jamie made his way across the field back to the castle to see the men starting up for practice. MacKenzie warriors practiced sparring daily from dawn til noon. Their warriors were fierce with their blades and feared throughout the Highlands.  
Dougal walked over to him and slapped him on the back. “You’re up early, good lad! A fightin’ mood!” He said energetically.  
Dougal MacKenzie was 30 years old with dark hair and cold grey eyes. His lips were rather thin and always seemed to be curled up in a dour smile. He was as tall as Jamie swift with a blade. His wits were as quick and agile as his body and he was once described with great pride by Column as the most heartless young scoundrel he had ever encountered.  
“Nay, I willna be joining the men today.” Jamie said as he walked toward the keep.  
“Since when did beddin’ a whore become more important than the protection of your clan, _lad_ ”, Dougal yelled after him.  
Jamie turned around and walked back up to him. “Nay! And I didna bed her. She’s no’ a whore. For the safety of clan, I need answers as to her kin and allegiances.” Jamie said icily.  
“Bein’ that it was my decision to bring her with us to the keep, I’ll let Murtugh lead the men today and come wi’ ye for interrogation.” Dougal suggested eagerly.  
“Nay! She doesna trust you, and she’s no’ under your protection. Go about your business, I will practice with the men on the morrow.” Jamie quickly turned around and continued to walk back to the keep cursing under his breath.

Four of his young men walked up to him just before he could clear the training field. “We hear ye rescued a lass!” Daniel said.  
“Aye, a lady,” Jamie said, clearing his throat.  
”A Sassenach!” Angus exclaimed.  
“Is she pretty?” Daniel asked.  
“Aye” Jamie sighed.  
”How does she ride?” Angus asked.  
Jamie rolled his eyes. “To the devil, with all of ye!”  
“What say ye, Jamie? Fergus says ye’ll have the lass seduced within a sennight. Daniel says a fortnight. Angus says tonight.” Hamish asked him.  
“Hell and damnation.... Get on wi’ your training _LADS!_ Jamie shouted. He quickly made his way back to the keep. He could hear Daniel calling after him “Och! The lad’s in love!” 

As he walked through the gardens in the back towards the kitchens, he stopped to pick a few bonny flowers. He then went into the kitchen and found Mrs. FitzGibbons. She was the only member of the keep Jamie trusted and he had her to make up a breakfast tray for Claire. He handed her the flowers to put on the tray. “Doona speak about this to anyone” Jamie cautioned again. “Nobody kens which chamber I gave Claire.”  
“Ye have my word Jamie. Ye ken I doona wish any harm upon the lass” she replied sympathetically.  
“Leave the tray when it’s ready. I will take it to the room. Where are the teas? I want to surprise Claire” he asked.  
“Och lad! Ye got it bad, dontcha? It’s down in the buttery, I’ll go find ye somethin” she said kindly.  
“Nay, I’ll go. I want to find it. You can boil the water”. He said and left.

Laoghaire entered the kitchen and approached her Aunt, Mrs. FitzGibbons.  
“Was that James I just saw? Why is he going to the buttery?” She asked unabashedly.  
“That’s no’ yer business, child. Get on wi’ your duties now. The men will be needin’ their breakfast soon.” Mrs. FitzGibbons scolded.  
“Och! But I must see to James!” She exclaimed. She quickly ran to the buttery.  
“Nay! Laoghaire!” Mrs. FitzGibbons cried angrily. “C’mere lass!”  
Laoghaire giggled as she opened the door and disappeared down into the buttery.  
Mrs. FitzGibbons frowned and shook her head. _’Such a silly lass!’_ she thought with vexation. For years Mrs. FitzGibbons had tried raise her niece with the manners and propriety of a lady. But Laoghaire was Laoghaire still; untamed, wild, noisy, and fearless.

Down in the Buttery, Jamie scanned around thinking of what Claire might like best. _’Mint’_ he thought. _‘She tasted of mint and honey’._ Jamie smiled to himself. He would bring his lady mint tea with honey with her breakfast. As he was looking through various bags he heard a noise behind him.

He turned around to see Laoghaire at the bottom of the stairs. “What are ye looking fer down here James? Ye’re up verra early. Can I help ye find anything?” She asked sweetly.  
He swore under his breath. “Nay, I think I’ve found what I need, lass. You may go about your day.” He said dismissively and turned his back to her expecting her to leave. As he was inspecting the different bags looking for mint, Laoghaire crept up silently behind him and ran her hands down his hips.  
_“Laoghaire...”_ he said in a warning tone.  
She ignored him and brought her hands down his thighs and put them under his kilt to caress his buttocks.  
“I went to yer room last night to help ye wi’ yer arm and ye werena there. Where were ye?” She asked softly.  
“That’s no’ your business to ask” He said callously shrugging her hands off him.  
“So ye been whorin’ with another maid, James Fraser! I kent it!” She said sharply.

Jamie was starting to lose his temper but didn’t want to fight. Claire would be waking up soon.  
“I spent the night in the stables. We thought Donas would be birthin’ her foal but she didna. Now go!” he said exasperated.  
“James please” she said sweetly again as she moved her hands once more under his kilt.  
He turned around “Laoghaire, I’m no’ in the mood for exertin’ myself this morning. Leave now and go about your day” he said sternly.  
“I ken ye are tired James, I didna want ye to exert yerself. I think maybe ye are needin’ some relaxin” she said stubbornly.  
“And what sort of relaxin’ do ye think I’m needin?” He replied sardonically.  
Laoghaire laughed and quickly dropped to her knees and within seconds her lips were upon Jamie.  
“Christ, no’ again” he muttered under his breath.  
She laved her tongue around the head of his cock expertly—just the way he taught her—and he couldn’t help but stiffen instantly. He thought of Claire waking up alone without him and he softened rapidly. He slowly pulled himself away from her.  
“No’ now lass. I canna,” He said. But Laoghaire just looked up at him with a frown.  
“What do ye mean, ye cannae? Did I do somethin’ wrong?” She asked in a shrill and unpleasant voice.  
“No lass.... I canna... it’s no’ you...” he said.  
She grabbed his cock with her hand and redoubled her effort. _‘Christ, I cannae get this bitch off me’_ he thought to himself. If she wouldn’t stop he would make it quick.  
He leaned back and closed his eyes, he thought of the night before and tasting Claire. His cock suddenly swelled painfully. He remembered Claire’s moans and he grabbed the back of Laoghaire’s head and started pushing himself deeper into her mouth. She tried to move her head back but he kept her locked firmly in place.  
“C’mon _LASS!_ ” Jamie growled at her.  
She opened her mouth wider and he began working himself faster and deeper. He thought of Claire’s climax and he plunged himself as deep as he could while holding Laoghaire‘s head firmly against him. Without warning, Jamie groaned and released himself down her throat as she gagged on his wide girth.

When he was finished, Jamie let go of her head and Laoghaire pushed herself away. Still on her knees, she looked up at him confused and said “James?” in a small voice.  
Jamie was starting to fix his kilt and looked down at her and simply said “I’m sorry lass.”  
She got up and fled the buttery. He could see she was starting to cry as she ran up the stairs. Jamie cursed under his breath. He had to do something about her quickly. Then he went back to picking out teas for Claire. If he hurried, he would be there when she woke up.


	15. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie gets answers and solves a problem

Claire was sitting with her Uncle Lamb having tea. She relaxed and smiled at her Uncle. She was finally home. “I’m so happy to see you! I’ve been having monstrous dreams. I thought my life would never return to normal ever again!” She exclaimed. “Uncle Lamb, I must ask you something that’s been weighing on my mind. My mother was a part of my nightmares. Please, can you tell me about Julia?” She asked.  
Q Beauchamp looked tired, and pale. With a sigh he said, “Well... my brother, Henry, met Julia in the hospital. She was admitted in rough condition and on the brink of death. It was a grievous time. During her recovery, Henry and Julia fell in love and married soon after her recovery. In less than a year, she gave birth to you, Claire. I never learned the circumstances that led Julia’s hospitalization because your parents died in an accident before I could ask.” He told her plainly.  
“But what kind of accident was it? Can you give me any details?” She asked.  
“No one knows what caused the car accident Claire. They died in Scotland, near Inverness. There were no adverse weather conditions or any other vehicles involved. The car just crashed into trees on the side of the road. Perhaps it was a mechanical failure, but inspectors could find nothing wrong with the vehicle itself other than the damage caused by the crash. I know she had several close calls with her life before that. It was almost as if Julia was accident prone. It was strange indeed.” He said.  
“Scotland! I thought my parents lived in London!” She exclaimed.  
“No, my brother moved to Scotland after he became a doctor and worked at a hospital in Inverness. Your mother was Scottish. Julia Thomson MacKenzie. That was her name... She-“  
“I’m half Scottish!” Claire interrupted. “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me!” She exclaimed. “I thought I was English!” She looked at her Uncle in disbelief.  
He stared back at her puzzled “But you are English. Scotland is part of England, Claire” he said shaking his head.  
“You know what I mean! Tell me the truth, does Frank want to hospitalize me? He’s been having affairs... Will I be sent away?” She demanded.  
“Sent away? Whatever do you mean, Claire? We don’t know where you are! We’ve been looking for you!” He told her.

Claire woke up with a jolt and for a moment had no recollection of where she was. She wasn’t in her own bedroom in her own bed. None of the smells were familiar. It took her a moment to clear the cobwebs from her mind and remember that she was in Castle Leoch and in a new bedchamber—a room Jamie has shared with her. She was alone and the sun was streaming through the window. A fire was burning and the room was warm. Jamie had seen to her care before leaving. She got up and paced the room. Claire missed her Uncle most terribly. His words in her dream echoed in her mind; _We’ve been looking for you!_

She glanced around surveying the room. The walls were fashioned of pale gray stone, the ceiling was high, and there were none of those moldings or baseboards that always looked so out of place in “renovated” castles frequented by tourists. Not one outlet, not one lamp, merely dozens of glass bowls filled with oil, topped by fat, blackened wicks. The floor was planked of honey-blond wood, polished to a high sheen, with rugs scattered about. _If I didn’t know better, I could almost believe I am in the 18th century! Perhaps I am like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz!_

Claire heard a creak as the door opened and Jamie appeared before her with a tray of food.  
“Breakfast in bed for my lady,” he said sheepishly.  
Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. The sight of this giant Highlander bringing her breakfast suddenly made her laugh.  
“So I am your lady now?” She asked coyishly.  
He set the tray down and walked over to her. “That ye are” he took her hand and kissed it. “I am your servant, my lady”. He had a hunger in his eyes that had yet to dissipate. He took her hand and led her to the table. “Come and break your fast. We will be leavin’ the castle soon.”  
“We are? Where are we going?” Claire was rather enjoying his ‘gallant knight’ persona.  
“A verra bonny place. I’ve been going there since I was a boy. It’s also quiet and we will have privacy. We can speak freely.... these castle walls have ears.” 

Claire sat down to her breakfast. It was laid out beautifully and he even had flowers for her. She picked up a cup of mint tea and took a sip.  
“Jamie, this is wonderful!” She looked at him and smiled.  
“Weeel...” he said “I didna want you to think we lock all our guests in the tower. I wanted to make it up to you Claire. I’m verra sorry.” He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Then he went to sit down at the table.  
“Why did they lock me in the tower, Jamie? It was very cruel.”  
“Mrs. FitzGibbons was to take you to see the Laird and you refused. It doesna help you are English. Colum hates the English, as do most Highlanders.” He paused for a moment. “Dinna fash Claire, you are safe. I assure you, I’d never see ye harmed. You’re under my protection.”  
“I believe you Jamie. But such cruelty because I’m English? That is ridiculous. What if my parents were Highlanders?”  
Jamie looked at her with dawning realization “Aye, I can tell ye have the look of it. So where is your clan?”  
“Well, I honestly don’t know. My mother’s last name was.... Thomson.” _Don’t mention MacKenzie,_ she thought. “My parents died when I was a baby and I went to live in England with my Uncle Lamb.... my father’s older brother.” She said somberly as she slowly started to eat a bowl of parritch laced with honey and berries.

She had a look of pain in her eyes and Jamie wanted to know all that had happened and take away the ache of it.  
“I’m sorry for your parents. Aye, my mother died when I was a boy as well. There are many Thomson’s throughout the Highland, we may be able find her kin. What about your father’s clan?”  
Claire thought for a moment. “Well, I only know of my Uncle in England. I don’t think my father had much family.”  
“So is your uncle in England now?”  
“Um, no.... he’s.... in France now. We used to live there too when I was younger.” Although she felt safe with Jamie, she was still wary about giving her kidnappers any information about her uncle.  
“Je suis prest.” _‘I am ready.’_ Jamie said with a perfect French accent.  
_‘I am in a hurry’_ she translated to herself. “Que voulez-vous dire?” _‘What do you mean?’_ She replied with an equally perfect accent.  
Jamie laughed. “It’s my clan’s motto. I want you to ken it.”  
“But what does that mean?” Claire asked curiously.  
“I am ready,” he said simply. “It means we are prepared for anything.”  
”So you’re fluent in French? Impressive.” ‘ _Je suits prêt’ means I am ready. Prest must be archaic French... These Highlanders certainly take their heritage seriously,_ she thought to silently.  
Jamie shrugged. “Aye, I spent some years living in Paris with a cousin when I was a lad. My grandmother was a French Countess.”  
Claire smiled at him. Then looked down with a slight frown.  
“Anything wrong Claire?” He asked with concern.  
“No... yes... well, I don’t know. I’m certain my uncle must be worried about me. He doesn’t know where I am. He is probably looking for me.” She sighed.  
“Aye, so your Uncle is in France. Is that why ye were in Inverness? You were traveling to your uncle in France after your husband died?”  
“Um.... yes, that’s right.” She lied.  
“But why did Murtugh find ye by the stones? You were quite far from Inverness,” he inquired.  
_Jesus H Christ! Is this the Spanish Inquisition?_ she wondered. “I was kidnapped. By that dragoon, Jonathan Randall. He’s a horrible man. I was trying to escape him when Murtugh found me.”  
“Aye, that man has a verra bad reputation.” he agreed.

Claire looked at him and he was staring back at her. A shiver went down her spine. She suddenly couldn’t think of anything save the memory of his lips pressed upon her intimately, the heat of his breath upon her. Jamie seemed to read her thoughts, his eyes traveling to her mouth.  
“And your Uncle? What is his name? Where in France does he live?”  
“Quentin Beachamp and he lives in Paris” she said finishing up her breakfast.  
“Dinna fash, I will find a way to get word to your uncle that ye are safe, Claire. I promise,” he said standing up.  
“Wait, Jamie... if you could just take me to a telephone... perhaps there is one in the castle? I could call my Uncle Lamb now and let him know I’m alright,” Claire asked hopefully.  
Jamie head tilted to the side slightly as he stared at her silently.  
“Is there a telephone in the castle, Jamie? Surely, Leoch has some modern conveniences, even if there is no electricity yet.” Claire continued.  
“Nay,” Jamie simply said and he watched Claire lower her head in disappointment. She had the oddest mannerisms and saying. Jamie then walked in front of her, kneeled down and took her hands in his.  
“Listen Claire, Mrs. FitzGibbons is going to come to the room and she will help ye dress. I dinna want you to let any other servants in this chamber. I will lock the door when I leave.”  
“Lock the door? So I’m your prisoner now?”  
“Nay, no’ a prisoner Claire. We have the Gathering in a few days. Visitors are already coming to the castle. This keep will soon be full of unfamiliar faces. For your safety, I need you to stay out o’ sight unless I am with ye. It willna be for long. Also, a lass from town will coming with her wares on the morrow. You may have anything ye need.” He stood and headed to the door.  
“Wares? What do you mean? Jamie?”  
‘Ladies’ finery... dresses, chemises, corselets, petticoats, slippers, stockings... Bein’ that you were brought to the castle in just a shift, you’ll be needin’ dresses to attend the Gathering. Mrs. FitzGibbons found you a new dress, but I didna think you wanted to wear it everyday.” Jamie opened to the door. “See to your needs, I’ll return to take you riding at noon.” Then he left the room and locked it behind him. 

Claire sat in the chamber quietly finishing her tea. She calmly tried to process all of the events since her visit to the standing stones. _Corselets? Petticoat? So she had to dress up in costume too?_ How bizarre! And what was the Gathering? An annual Scottish Festival held on the castles grounds? Her life had been anything but usual—and while she had developed coping skills for stress—she felt she had almost reached her limit. She had been kidnapped by Highlanders and taken to this castle... for what? To dress in costume and take part in a Scottish cultural event? She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, it took a few minutes before she heard Mrs. FitzGibbons calling her from the hallway. 

“Claire! It’s verra gude to see ye well this morning!” She exclaimed as she entered the room. Then she started bustling around with some clothing.  
“Let’s get ye dressed now lass.”  
Claire walked over to her and she stripped her of her shift. ”Ye have verra bonny skin. Most lasses at your age have been marked by the pox,” Mrs. FitzGibbons remarked.  
“The pox? Do you mean to tell me that they don’t vaccinate for smallpox in the Highlands?” Claire asked in astonishment.  
Mrs. FitzGibbons ignored her question and silently oversaw to her entire dressing with a linen chemise, a petticoat, two overskirts and a pale bodice. She also gave Claire a pair of wool stocking and boots. She then had Claire sit to dress to her hair.  
“Yer verra bonny, Claire. I see why young Jamie is besotted with ye.”  
“Besotted?” Claire asked raising an eyebrow.  
“Aye, the lad’s in love! He’s sendin’ ye a ladies maid from the Fraser clan and she’s bringin’ wi’ her a trunk of verra fine dresses for ye! Yer a lucky lass to capture the heart of Jamie!”  
“Why is he sending me a maid? And why do I need new dresses from the Fraser’s?” She asked changing the subject. Claire felt her face burning after Mrs. FitzGibbons gushing comments about Jamie being in love. Was it true? Did he use that word—love? Impossible! They have only known each other a couple days! She was a married woman!  
“Weeel, he doesna trust the lasses in this keep. Most of ‘em are loyal to the Laird and to his Uncles. Ye ken he doesna trust his Uncles... especially no’ wi’ a lass,” she said. “And ye need proper dresses... Jamie kens ye were robbed,” she said as she tied Claire’s long hair back and wove ribbons through them. “’Tis a fine day, says I, when leddies canna travel the roads in safety.”  
“How many dresses do I need? How long am I to stay here?” Claire asked.  
Mrs. FitzGibbons ignored her question as she finished dressing her hair.  
“That’s verra gude. Ye look bonny. Stay in the room and wait for Jamie.” She gathered her empty tray and jugs before exiting the room. “Bar the door, lass” she said as she shut the door behind her.  
Claire barred the door, then sat down before the fire which was mostly smoldering embers. She felt like she was locked away hidden in the castle. Was Jamie hiding her? Perhaps these Highlanders are suffering post traumatic stress from the war? Claire continued to contemplate her situation alone in her room. She had to contact her Uncle and find a way out of the castle.

Jamie left Claire in her chambers with a smile on his face. Scottish, he thought. His Uncle was a hard and stubborn man. He may be more amiable to Claire if he knew she had Scottish blood and no’ all English. There was something odd about the way Claire spoke that he didn’t understand. It mattered naught. Claire would become accustomed to the Highland ways soon enough. He set out to the fields where the warriors were at practice. He had to take care of Loaghaire before he betrothed himself to Claire. There was only one person that could help.

Rupert, at twenty-four, was the twin of his older brother Column; thickset, powerful, dark as night and with a spirit consumed by the desire to fight and kill. He thought little about anything else. He had just knocked his opponent to the ground. Blood was oozing out of his opponent’s mouth and he didn’t appear to be getting up again. Few MacKenzie warriors could best Rupert in battle. 

Jamie crept up behind Rupert unnoticed. He was too focused on his opponent in front of him. Jamie drew his sword and, drawing the long end of his plaid round his left arm, sprang out from behind him and put his sword to Rupert’s neck. “You make it far too easy to kill you, _lad”_ Jamie said. Then put the sword down and stepped back and laughed.

Rupert looked at him with a murderous gleam in his eye. With a battle cry he swiftly charged at Jamie and knocked him to the ground. Rupert had a thick, muscular torso that was solid as an oak. Hedging his weight, he could easily take down a man of Jamie’s size. They began to pummel each other as they wrestled on the ground. A shadow came over them and Dougal yelled, “What the devil is going on?” They both stopped their punches and got off the ground.  
“Nothing, Dougal. Just having’ a wee bit of fun wi’ Rupert.” Jamie replied. Rupert punched Jamie again in the gut with his ham sized fist. Jamie grunted.  
“Enough! Get your arses back in battle wi’ the guards. You can play your games later. Practice is no’ finished yet,” he yelled.  
“Aye” Jamie said and grabbed Rupert’s arm as Dougal walked away. “I need a boon,” Jamie told him. “I’m willing to give you this blade... and settle your gambling debts if ye can help me wi’ a lass.”

Rupert’s face brightened with sudden interest as Jamie was holding the Viking Sgian-dubh his father, the Earl, had given him. Since he was 13 years old, Rupert had been wantin’ that blade. He fought for it and gambled for it, but he never won. Rupert eyed the blade greedily.  
“What will ye have me do?” He asked doubiously. His nephew was full of tricks. He would never part with such a sword willingly. Rupert laughed as Jamie explained His predicament.  
“I don’t see why I canna accommodate your wishes, Jamie,” he said. He then moved for the small sword, but Jamie swiftly stepped out of his reach.  
“No’ yet. You get the blade when I ha’ my proof!” He said firmly.  
Rupert grunted and walked away. Jamie laughed. He put the blade back in its sheath and went to prepare his horse for his trip with Claire. He was sorry to lose the antique sword, but his father had others he would inherit. It was better to lose the Sgian-dubh than to lose Claire.


	16. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets to know Jamie, Jamie proposes marriage. Claire discovers she has truly traveled back in time.

It wasn’t long after Mrs. FitzGibbons left that Jamie was knocking on the door to Claire’s bedchambers.  
“Shall we get on wi’ our day, my lady?” His voice came out in a husky whisper, skimming deliciously along her insides. He wrapped her in a cloak and led her out of the keep to his horse.

Jamie hoisted himself into the saddle—showing off an impressive display of male muscle—then held out his hands for her. He lifted her up, but rather than settling her in his lap, he swung her behind his back. He tucked a plaid blanket behind his saddle for a cushion, but she wished he’d put it between them. If anything, the heat of his body between her thighs was torment.

They’d only been riding nigh on a quarter hour and her body was steaming hot. She gazed out at the mountainous scenery without sensible thought in her head. Had she caught a fever? With her hands around his rock hard middle and her breasts against his muscular back, it was the most painfully sensual trip.

Jamie gritted his teeth—an action repeated so often since first laying eyes on Claire. His cock was still stiff. He thought setting her to ride behind him would be less torturous than having her wedged between his thighs. But the lass was plastered to his back, and no amount of layers kept him from feeling her breasts, pressed hotly on either side of his spine.

They soon arrived at their destination and Jamie walked her down a small hillcock near a loch. The loch itself was smooth and blue and reflected the majestic mountains that surrounded in the distance. They walked through the short grass and Jamie laid a plaid down on a spot where the heather grew thick.

As they relaxed into his plaid, Claire absorbed her surroundings. The sun was shining down and the air was clear. “Jamie, this is a beautiful spot.” She said. “It’s absolutely pristine. There’s not even one road in sight!”  
“Aye,” he said as he opened his satchel for the food and drink he brought. “It’s a wild and beautiful country... but not as beautiful as you, Claire.”  
Claire smiled as he poured from his leather skin a small cup of wine.  
“Wine?” He asked as he handed her the cup.  
Claire accepted it and took a sip. He poured himself a drink and then leaned back absorbing the sun.  
“It’s so nice to be outside in the sunshine,” Claire said watching small clouds reflected in the loch.  
“I kent you would like it.” Jamie took her hand as he looked at her.  
“Jamie, I - ”  
“Wait, Claire, just for a moment. Let me speak first. Claire, I want to marry you” Jamie said staring into her eyes.  
Claire’s eyes widened with an incredulous look. “Marriage! We just met each other!” She exclaimed. Then she shook her head and looked away.  
Jamie took her hand and kissed it. “I’m an impatient man... And that’s the least of my faults.”  
Claire laughed. “I can imagine the list is very long,” she teased.  
“Aye,” he smiled. “Verra long... what say ye, Claire. Will you be my wife?”  
“I can’t marry you Jamie! I don’t know anything about you!”  
“What would ye like to know? We have all day... just the two of us.”  
“Well, what about your family?” She asked hoping to change the subject.  
“How many generation back?”  
“Well, I suppose your parents will do.”  
“Aye” he answered. “Well, my mother, Ellen MacKenzie was Colum’s sister...” He began...  
Claire nodded as she was grateful for the change of topic in the conversation.

“My father, Brian Fraser is Earl of Broch Tuarach. It’s a fortress at the top of hillside that overlooking Loch Ness. It’s been in the Fraser clan for over 500 years. It’s lands are neighboring to these MacKenzie lands. The MacKenzie’s and Fraser’s have been bitter enemies for nearly 200 years. It began when a Frasier Chieftan captured one of the MacKenzie daughters and held her for ransom. Legend holds that the Fraser had starved the girl to death and then buried her somewhere in the eight-foot-thick walls. That was the beginning of the feud.”  
“Oh my god!” Claire exclaimed. “That is abhorrent Jamie!”  
“Aye” he replied. “For 200 years both clans have ravaged more than thirty miles of the surrounding countryside. MacKenzies and their men would go out against the crofts and cattle of the Frasers, burning and laying waste to whatever they could not steal. The Frasers would retaliate. It was cruel and murderous clan warfare.”  
“Then what about your parents? If your families had so much bad blood for generations, how did they even meet?” Claire asked.  
“My parents met at a reception of a neighboring clan to both MacKenzie and Fraser. It was love at first sight. When my mother asked to marry a Fraser, my Grandfather violently refused. He locked her up and threatened to send her to a convent. My grandfather was a pitiless and quarrelsome Laird. I ken he enjoyed clan warfare. My mother ran away to Broch Tuarach and married my father. There was nothing my grandfather hated more than the Frasers and the clan war continued. The MacKezies lurked like birds of prey, waiting for the unwary Fraser, of any age, in order to fall upon them and attack.” Jamie explained.  
“And what about your family? Surely they sought justice with the authorities against a muderous clan! And why are you with the MacKenzies, Jamie? I don’t understand.”  
“Well, my grandmother died when Colum and my mother were verra young. I think my mother was the only person Colum has ever truly loved. Their father was cold and perhaps heartless; all Colum and my mother had was each other. Colum’s father married another young lass when Colum was already young man leading his own warriors. He had three more children, Katherine, Dougal and Rupert. Colum’s father died and Colum became Laird of Leoch and all its lands. His stepmother retreated to far off chambers of the castle not to participate wi’ the clan for the rest of her life. Colum did no’ care for his stepmother and preferred her to stay out o’ site. Colum raised Dougal and Rupert more as a father than a brother.” Jamie paused in thought.  
“So then Colum brought you here? After his father died?” Claire asked.  
“Aye. Years of clan warfare had left both clans impoverished. The MacKenzie clan was in threat of ruin. Colum is a canny man wi’ more brains than his father ever had. He arranged a truce with my father to keep peace between the clans and put an end to the raids and the attacks.”  
“And what was the truce?”  
“My mother had already passed away in childbirth. If she was alive, Colum may have demanded she be sent back to him. He demanded that I live here wi’ the MacKenzies. He wants me to be a MacKenzie because I am Ellen’s only son. My father also had to marry his younger sister Katherine. She was unwed and a spinster. I doona think Colum ever cared much for her either. He may have used the truce as way to get rid of Katherine. So my father married her and I came to live here at Leoch when I was just a lad of 13 years. Since then, the raids have stopped and there has been a peace between both clans.”

They both sat in silence for a few moments. “My god, Jamie. I’m surprised you Highlanders live so... traditionally. I was under the impression that the clan way of life ended after the last rising.” Claire said finally turning to him.  
“The last rising? Nay... but my Granfather was beheaded for his part. My Father paid a steep price to regain his lands and title.”  
“But the last rising was over 200 years ago...” Claire said feeling confused. She had learned much from Frank about the history of the Jacobite uprisings.  
“Nay, the last rising was the ‘15... 29 years ago,” Jamie replied. “There are rumors now that the Prince... Charles Edward is in France raising another army to take back his rightful place as King of Scotland.”  
“The Bonnie Prince Charles! Jamie you cannot be serious!” Claire exclaimed. She was beginning to think Jamie might in fact be deranged. He spoke with conviction and she did not sense he was lying. She moved to stand.  
Jamie grabbed her arm. “Claire, why are ye upset? I dinna ken if there will be another war.”  
“You are talking absolute madness. What about your father? Do you speak to him often?” Claire wondered if perhaps Jamie’s father did not know he was delusional.  
“Aye, we write letters. I have a sister too, Jenny. She’s 5 years my senior. We were close when we were young.”  
“Jamie... How old are you?”  
“I’m 23 years. And you, my lady?”  
“I’m 26 years old. Are you disappointed?”  
“Nay. You could never disappoint me Claire. I thought ye were younger.”  
“And what about Colum’s sister? Is she still married to your father?”  
“Aye, she’s married to the Earl. Katherine is now the Countess of Broch Tuarach. I doona think my father is happy about it. Jenny is mistress of the castle. She took the duties of mistress when my mother passed.” He replied.  
“And Colum? Why didn’t he remarry? Doesn’t he need to have an heir to Leoch? Or, does he want to make you his heir, Jamie?”  
“Nay, no’ yet. I’m no’ a MacKenzie. I have to swear the oath which I have no’ done. Colum’s wife died years ago and his bairn did no’ survive. He prefers now the company of willin’ castle wenches. He runs this keep like a fortress full of warriors. He does have one bastard, Hamish, who is ten and six summers. He has declared him legitimate and he has title as eldest son of the Laird. He trains daily with the guards and may be Laird of Leoch. I dinna ken.” Jamie reached over and cupped her face. “Any more questions, my lady? Or are ye done with the interrogation?” He asked in a mocking tone.  
“Pfft! Willing castle wenches?” She said with aversion. She was now convinced that Castle Leoch was entirely full of disreputable men.  
“Aye” he said as he moved closer.  
Claire felt her body begin to tremble. Jamie possessed a relentless and infectious personal energy that pierced through her being. She took a deep breath and coolly asked, “And what about me? You don’t know much about me. I could be a horrible person.” She wondered what Jamie would think about her if she informed him she thought she might have accidentally killed someone. There was also the matter of her psychiatric hospitalization at Warenford.  
Jamie looked at her, “You may be that, but I doona think I care” he said as he leaned over and pressed his warm lips to hers.

Jamie took possession her her mouth just like the first time he kissed her. His soft tongue swept inside to melt against hers, to swirl and tease, to own her. With one hand still caressing her face, he moved his other arm behind her, placing his hand on the small of her back, while pulling her closer. A soft moan escaped her, quickly swallowed by Jamie’s kiss. Claire touched his waist, slowly circling her palm around to his back. His skin warmed the soft linen of his shirt. She pressed against his spine, running her fingers up and down the length, massaging him. This was new to Claire. She wanted Jamie as every inch of her skin began to tingle.  
Reluctantly, Jamie pulled away still holding Claire close. His eyes were filled with desire.  
“I take it your answer is yes, my lady. You will marry me?” He asked huskily.  
Claire pulled away. “No! I cannot marry you Jamie! I... I am already married! And I cannot stay in Scotland!” She turned and gazed silently at the loch.  
Jamie let out a sigh and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. _Before we leave today, she will say yes._ Regaining his composure, he poured some more wine for them both. After taking a few copious sips, he then asked her, “Tell me about your husband, Claire.”  
Claire’s heart jumped at the question. She was both surprised and at a loss for words. “Wh... whatever for?” She asked shakily.  
“Claire, I ken ye may have secrets, you dinna need to tell me everything. There is a truth between us. I think there is room for secrets, but no’ lies. Whatever you say, let it be the truth and I promise you the same.”  
“I agree with that Jamie. We both deserve the truth. No lies.” Claire took a deep breath. “Please tell me now Jamie, when will I be allowed to contact my husband... and why do you pretend the year is 1744? Is this some sort of Highland cult that I’ve stumbled upon?”  
“Your husband is alive then? You told me he died,” Jamie said surprised.  
“I said that because you lied about the year... the century... I was playing along with whatever game you are playing at,” she said nonchalantly.  
“Are you suggesting I played ye false, Claire?” He asked looking at her intently.  
Claire sighed. “Jamie, I don’t know what you are playing at, but it’s frightening me. I’m very confused!”  
“What are ye confused about Claire,” he asked gently.  
“I want to know why I was kidnapped by your clan... why do you wear costumes, and why can I not make a damn telephone call!” She exclaimed exasperated. Claire was fed up. “If I can just go home, I promise I will not report the MacKenzies to the authorities.”  
Jamie just looked at her silently. _The lass is talking daft again,_ he thought.  
“Well?” Claire asked impatiently.  
Jamie stared at her confused. “Claire?”  
“Well, are you going to answer me, Jamie!”  
“I dinna ken the question!”

In that moment, Claire lost all control. Tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks as she lurched over to Jamie and began beating on his muscular chest with her tiny fists. “I trusted you!” She screamed. “You promised me the truth! Why, why... are you playing these games! I can’t stand it anymore Jamie!”  
Jamie grabbed both her wrists and pulled her body to his. He looked her in the eye. “Claire, I am not playing any games with ye,” he said solemnly.  
Claire felt a jolt of energy run through her body. Her diagnostic sense took over as she looked into Jamie’s eyes and knew he was not lying. In that moment she also had a flashback of the stones. She heard the chanting and the humming. Claire realized the impossible was in fact happening.  
“Jamie, what is the date?”  
“The 4th day of May, 1744,” he replied looking puzzled.  
Claire nodded and her body went limp. “I’m sorry for the outburst Jamie. This is not your fault,” she said as calmly as she could while new insights were revealed faster than her consciousness could process. Suddenly everything went black as she fainted.

“Claire, are ye well?” Jamie asked in a concerned tone. “Claire!” Jamie leaned over her and gently nudged her. She was extremely pale and her breath was shallow.  
As Claire began to regain consciousness, she could hear the urgency in Jamie’s voice. “I’m alright, Jamie,” she said without conviction. They were silent for a time lying in the plaid as they both regained their wits.  
“Claire... I wish you had told me the truth about your husband. I-”  
“Well... let explain Jamie. You asked about my husband. The truth is, my husband and I were married for 6 years. We only spent our honeymoon together, and then his work took him away for the entire 6 years. We lived apart and we never had a visit. Aside from a few tele- letters each year, we had no contact. When I was reunited with my husband, I found out he had other women. I was upset, and thought perhaps marriage was a mistake. A day later... I am here and he is not... alive now.” She said cautiously as she decided her previous story was the best one.  
“He sounds like a pig’s arse. It’s verra good he’s no’ alive otherwise I would run my claymore through him.” Jamie said casually.  
Claire’s jaw dropped and Jamie laughed. “We promised each other the truth!” He said smiling. “I want you to be mine. I would kill that arse to have ye!”  
“Is this... usual? Whatever it is between us.... Are... Are you like this with other... women?”  
”You think I asked another lass to by my wife?”  
”No, that’s not what I meant.... I meant when we touch”  
”Nay, what is between us is no’ usual. So what did ye do without a husband for 6 years, then?”  
“I went to a small medical school in England, for women. I studied there for 4 years and became a doctor. I lived with my Uncle Lamb.”  
“So when you said Claire, that ye were a Doctor, ye meant ye have the title?”  
“Yes, Jamie. A doctor. I fixed your shoulder, did I not?”  
“So ye like doctorin’ then, Claire?” he said huskily remembering her light healing touch.  
“I like being a doctor better than being a wife,” she stated as she sat up.  
Jamie moved closer. “No’ my wife,” he said as he pushed Claire down on her back.

Jamie pinned her shoulders down and stretched out next to her as he once again began his sensual assault with his lips. This time Claire did not resist. He kissed her deeply then trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts. He continued to kiss her breasts with little nips while placing his hand to her hip, massaging as he worked his fingers against her skirts, slowly lifting the fabric, exposing her legs to the air. He moved his hand to the wetness of her and felt her arousal. “Och, lass…” he whispered against her neck. “You are so filled with passion...”  
Claire let out a moan as Jamie teased her center with light touches. She sucked in a hard breath. He slid his hands over her again and again and Claire shuddered beneath him. She never felt this aroused in her life.  
“Jamie, please” she whispered. She moved her hand toward his kilt to touch him. He moved his hips back as he continued to tease her very lightly keeping her on edge. “Jamie!” She cried.  
“No’ yet, Claire. I want to fill every part of you… breathe the air from your lungs… leave my handprints on your soul. I want to give you more pleasure than ye can bear. I want to make love to you. You have to say yes, I willna take ye without marriage, mo chridhe,” he said as he lightly sucked her nipples through her chemise. “You’re skin is so soft” he whispered as he continued tease her. “I ken you’ve no’ been touched here. Say yes to me, Claire,” he demanded.  
“No!” Claire cried. She moved to push Jamie away. “I cannot stay here! I must leave Scotland!” She tried to sit up but Jamie held her in place.  
He gently placed his lips over hers as he whispered, “I want ye to be mine, Claire.”  
In her mind she felt wind and sunlight pouring into her as Jamie gently nudged her lips apart with his tongue and deepened their kiss.  
“You have bewitched me Claire,” he said as he broke away and looked into her eyes.  
“But... I don’t know any spells,” she teased with a smile. She felt bolts of electricity racing through her body as she stared back at him.... mesmerized with his blue eyes.  
“You have bewitched me all the same... You cannae say that ye dinna want me,” he whispered huskily as if he sensed the exact effect he had upon her.  
“Yes Jamie... I do want you,” she whispered back.  
Jamie’s arms came round her and she was pressed so tightly against him that she could hardly breathe. He pressed her fully back down upon the ground as his body stretched over her own. Claire wrapped her legs around his hips as her desire rose to meet his and she trembled. Their world grew dark; the bright sun, the wind, receded, and Claire’s senses clamoured and begged and a cry of surrender was torn from her shaking lips. She felt his hard length pressed to her center and began to move herself against him with intense need. As Jamie held her he felt as if he were on fire; for a moment he hesitated, fighting himself and holding back, and then with a low growl he drove deep inside her in a single thrust. Claire’s body stiffened.  
Jamie froze as he felt Claire’s reaction to him.  
_‘Christ, she’s as tight as a virgin’_ he thought. “Did I hurt ye Claire?” he asked without moving.  
Claire breathed for a moment and let her body adjust to Jamie’s size. “No, you’re not hurting me,” she whispered as she slowly began to move her hips.  
Jamie brought his lips to hers as they both began to move slowly in perfect rhythm together. Claire felt a tension building, in a way she’d not felt before, and she pushed her hips against him harder, feeling the jolts of pleasure move from the center of her body outward. Jamie filled her completely. She was surrounded by him on that final precipice and then fell apart. She grabbed Jamie closer and screamed his name as she bucked and writhed beneath him.

Jamie was thrusting himself deeply into Claire, connecting their bodies with a ferocity. He knew he should be more gentle, but he couldn’t stop. Beneath him, Claire called out, little mewls mixed with frenzied cries. And then she shuddered calling his name, nails raking down his back, every inch of her trembling. She clenched tight then tighter around him. He was no match for her climax. “Och!” he groaned, letting his peak take over his senses as a pulsing pleasure captured him and he released himself inside her.

They held each other as their shudders subsided and heartbeats slowed. Jamie planted small kisses all over Claire’s face. Finally, he moved himself aside to rest beside Claire while he gathered her in his arms.  
“That was-“ he said.  
“I have never-“ she said at the same time.  
Jamie then kissed her again. It was a soft and tender kiss. “I love you, Claire,” he said. And kissed her again.  
Claire felt a lump in her throat as he kissed her so softly. A tear slid out of the corner of her eye. She had never felt a connection to anyone like this in her life.  
_‘I’ve fallen through time and I’m falling in love... how will I ever get back home?’_ she thought.  
Jamie looked at her tenderly. Smoothing the stray curls out of her face. “You will be my wife, Mo nighean dubh,” he said possessively.  
“I think I must be dreaming” she replied.  
“Och! The dreamin’ again. I dinna understand ye lass” he said with a questioning look. He raised his brows as if expecting some sort of explanation.  
“It’s nothing, Jamie, perhaps one day... I will be your wife.” She said.  
“Perhaps? I will make you verra happy Claire... as you’ve made me _verra_ happy. We have to get back to the Leoch soon. The sun is nearly over the mountain and I dinna wish to ride in the dark.” He said. He handed Claire some of the food he brought. “I ken ye must be hungry. Rest here while I go jump in the loch... I willna be long.” He said.  
“Jump in the loch?” Claire asked. “The water must be freezing! You’ll get sick!”  
“A warrior can handle the cold. This is where I usually bathe.”  
“But can’t you just have a bath sent to you in the castle?” Claire asked.  
Jamie laughed at her question as he walked off toward the loch.

Claire watched with fascination as Jamie removed all his clothing. She admired his muscular backside as he jumped naked into to the loch. Claire nibbled on food enjoying her future husband swimming laps completely carefree. Her eyes then widened as he stepped out of the loch and his fully nude frontal form was displayed in front of her. Nothing could prepare her for that. Six and a half feet of muscularly sculpted naked highlander stood before her, unselfconscious in his nudity. She couldn’t stop feasting her eyes upon him as he dried himself with his plaid.

Jamie then looked over at her. “Keep lookin’ at me like that Claire, and we’ll no’ make it back to the castle! We’ll sleep in the heather tonight!” He called out to her as his cock began to stiffen once more.

Claire looked away. She got up and began to adjust her own clothing. After Jamie finished dressing, he walked up to her and kissed her deeply. His body was cold, but his mouth was hot. Claire let out a soft moan. Jamie smiled. “We best get back to Leoch before dark. We have a wedding to announce in the morning.” He whispered in her ear.


	17. The Unity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie announces his engagement to the MacKenzies

Jamie and Claire arrived at Leoch before supper and they walked to her chambers through the dim back hallways. Mrs. FitzGibbons was walking from Claire’s room when she came upon them.  
“Jamie! The new maid has arrived with several trunks. She’s in Claire’s chambers with some supper,” she said.  
“I thank ye Mrs. FitzGibbons,” Jamie said and continued to lead Claire through the keep’s dark hallways. As they were almost to her room, they walked past a maid that hissed, “Sassenach!” under her breath. It was barely audible, but Claire knew what the girl said. It was a word Claire heard frequently since she arrived at Leoch.  
“Jamie, what exactly is a Sassenach?” Claire asked.  
“It’s Gaelic for an English person or Lowlander. I take it ye noticed the hostility it’s spoken with.” He explained.  
“I’ve heard it many times since coming to Leoch. I thought it meant me, but I didn’t want to assume. So I’m not welcome here, I suppose.” Claire said.  
Jamie then pressed her against the wall and gave her a deep kiss. “You’re my Sassenach, Claire, and you are welcome if I say ye are,” he said.

They walked into her chamber where her new maid, Lizzie, was sitting before the fire attending to her embroidery.  
The young girl stood up, “Milord and Milady. I’m Lizzie. Jenny sent me here. I’ve been a lady’s maid Broch Tuarach for 5 years and am very well trained in dressmaking and embroidery.” She said humbly.  
“Lizzie this is Claire. Ye will see to her dresses, and anything else she needs. Stay wi’ Claire at all times and never walk these hallways alone. Doona talk wi’ the other chamber maids in the keep except for Mrs. FitzGibbons. When you are in this chamber you must always-” Jamie was interrupted.  
“Bar the door?” Claire asked sardonically.  
“Bar the door,” Jamie repeated looking at Claire.  
“Very well.” Lizzie said with nod. She then walked over to Jamie and handed him and envelope. “Message from the Earl, Milord,” she said and then went back to her embroidery.

Jamie read the letter from his father. When he was finished, he sat down with a sigh.  
“Claire, tomorrow we will be visiting Broch Tuarach. It’s a day’s ride so we leave before dawn, we should arrive in time for supper.”  
Jamie then addressed Lizzie, “Lass, pack a dress for Claire for supper tomorrow. You will dress her in riding clothes in the morning. Mrs. FitzGibbons will come for you tomorrow to show ye around the keep. You stay wi’ Mrs. FitzGibbons or ye stay in this chamber.” He said sternly. “Claire, choose a dress to wear for the Gathering. Lizzie will alter it tomorrow if needed. I’ll have Mrs. FitzGibbons bring up a bath and supper soon. I will leave ye now as I must talk wi’ Colum tonight.” Jamie walked to the door.  
“You’re leaving now? For the whole night?” She asked.  
“Aye, I have some business with my uncles,” he said.  
“But Jamie... you cant leave me alone in this castle!” She exclaimed fearfully. Claire felt unhinged by the fact that she had indeed fallen through time. Only Jamie could make her feel safe.  
“I will see you verra early in the morning. Ye need your rest Claire... you’re worn out,” he replied.  
“What about Lizzie?” She asked still worried.  
“Choose your dresses, Claire. Lizzie brought all the finery that ye need in these trunks. I’ll leave ye to your tasks now,” he said.  
“And she sleeps where? Claire asked.  
“In here, wi’ you... I promise Claire, it willna be for long.” Jamie said apologetically.  
“I understand, Jamie” Claire replied reluctantly.  
“Good, I must talk wi’ Colum. Mrs. FitzGibbons will be here soon.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. Jamie then walked to the door. “Oh and Claire... bar the door,” he said as he closed the door behind him. Inside the chamber he heard Claire scream as she threw the bar down. He smiled. She is safe for now.

Jamie left Claire to sup wi’ the clan in the great hall. He took his place at high table on the dais in the empty seat opposite Rupert.  
Dougal glared at him and said slowly. “So... you’re back, are ye? Fresh from courting, I suppose.”  
“You can suppose what ye please,” Jamie snapped back. A serving woman appeared with a tankard of ale and a goblet. After filling Jamie’s she slipped away, leaving the men alone at the table.

Throughout the hall over the rest of the room were many scattered tables to accommodate the army of MacKenzie warriors that lived within the keep. The hall was loud and the men were in high spirits as well as deep in their cups anticipating the festivities of the gathering.  
“I have come to tell you Uncle that I’ve made up my mind to make Claire my wife” Jamie said calmly to Colum.  
“Wed a _Sassenach!_ I’d sooner ye brought back a common hoor as a bride. If it isn’t one and the same thing!” Colum barked across the table.  
Within seconds, both men stood from their seats glaring and spitting with fury. Only the intervention from Dougal had stopped both Colum and Jamie from leaping at each other.  
“If you’ve a mind to hurl insults, I have no mind to listen to you,” Jamie turned as if he were going to walk away.  
“Wait!” Colum shouted. “Don’t dare to turn your back on me, ye renegade! Sniffing round the skirts of our enemy!” He yelled.  
“Claire loves me as I love her. She’s no’ even English. Her kin are Scottish and French. Her father and mother died when she was verra young and had no choice but to live with her kin in England,” Jamie replied.  
“It’s a trick,” Colum warned. “A trick I tell ye! Jamie … are you bewitched? God’s wounds, if you marry a Sassenach... you may find yourself with your throat cut while ye sleep!”  
“Your advice to me is useless.” Jamie answered coldly. “I’ll marry Claire.”  
Dougal sat back eagerly listening with a slight grin on his face. “Those are fine sentiments,” Dougal interrupted, “but they hardly sound convincing from the mouth of a man whose reputation is the scandal of the Highlands. I remember when ye wanted to marry the French lass from the whorehouse in Edinburgh. Let’s not discuss this any longer.”

Jamie scowled at Dougal then turned his attention to the Great Hall when he saw a flash of blonde hair moving in his direction. _Loaghaire._ She approached Jamie and served him a plate of meat and fish.  
“Gude evening m’ lord,” she said with a saccharine smile.  
“My thanks,” Jamie said coldly. Jamie looked at Rupert with exasperation. Rupert just smiled and nodded his head.  
Column and Jamie continued to scowl at each other throughout the meal. They had reached an impasse.  
“Now, let’s be calm for the sake of all. We should retire to the long library after supper for a whisky and we can discuss the finer points of Jamie’s impending betrothal,” Dougal suggested diplomatically.

The men retired to the library for whisky and private discussion. Dougal had just poured the drinks and Colum was already losing his temper.  
“There’s no reason for this,” Colum shouted, and there was a genuine note of pain in his voice. “No reason in the world why you couldn’t have chosen a wife from any one of half a dozen Highland families if you’ve an itch to settle down. But this woman … No, Jamie, I cannae believe it!”  
Jamie looked at him and shrugged. “If I dinna marry Claire, I willna marry at all,” he stated simply. His indifference stung his uncle like a blow. There had always been love between him, his nephew and his brothers; love and loyalty and a bond of common taste. Now their precious unity was gone, spoilt by this Sassenach.  
“Marry her then, but I warn you, if ye keep her here the servants’ll poison her within a week.” Colum warned.  
Jamie shrugged. “I have no mind to live under this shadow when we’re married. I am prepared to do anything that will make Claire happy. I will absent myself from Leoch, if you have qualms about her living here. My mother had a fine house at Lollybrook which is empty. It will make a bonny home for us.”  
Colum stared at him in absolute disbelief. “You’d leave Leoch–your heritage–your own Uncle and family, just for the sake of a woman? Jamie, I’ll not quarrel with ye, for it’s obvious you’re out of your mind. You stand there, telling me you’ll go off to Lollybrook and leave me in my old age … Jamie, have you no love left for any of us?”  
“I have love for all my kin,” Jamie answered. “I love you all,” he repeated. “But I love Claire more. If your brothers try to interfere, I’ll break their necks. Drink your whisky Uncle, it may put ye in a better mood,” Jamie replied. He then quietly left the room.

“He’s bewitched,” Colum said. “There’s no other explanation for it. He’s defied me–cast off his own kind and given himself body and soul to that damned woman.” Colum finished his drink. “Where’s the whisky? My glass is empty, just like my nephew’s head!”  
“I wouldn’t condemn him too hard,” Dougal remarked. “I must admit she’s a fine beauty. One of the finest I’ve seen. It’s a shame it’s Jamie, you know. He was always too rough for a woman’s pretty ways. Such a pity he’s hiding her away. I might have some bonny evenings wi’ her if he were absent at all …”  
“I wouldn’t touch her.” Rupert said suddenly. “I wouldn’t put a hand on any Sassenach except to kill ‘em.”  
“That would be the last irony! Having you and Jamie kill each other over a damn Sassenach! I need another whisky...” Colum said gruffly.  
“Ach, Rupert! You’re too violent. No wonder women run away from you. You remind me of our dear Jamie before love transformed his black soul. Now my soul is just as black, but I’m a bit more pleasant with it.” Dougal stated with a grin.  
“While you and Colum get drunk, I must pay court to one lassie who willna be running away,” Rupert said. Dougal and Colum both looked astonished as he left the library.

Rupert roamed the hallways in search of the scullery wench. Unlike his brothers, Rupert did not warm his bed with the female servants of the keep. While Rupert was not traditionally handsome, he was all brawn and possessed a dangerous charm that lured lasses with a passion for excitement and mischief into his bed. 

For as long as he could remember, Rupert suffered from restless fits that drove him to seek out trouble. As a young lad, he began to participate in cattle raids, burnings and would even kill for the sheer pleasure of it. As he grew older, he continued to lose himself in debauchery by seeking out women in brothels and picking drunken quarrels. While his brothers got drunk in the library, Rupert roamed the keep deadly sober and in a devilish mood. He would make good on his promise to Jamie; He would keep the scullery wench out of Jamie’s—or any other man’s—bed for a month. His nephew feared she would trick him with a bairn. In exchange Jamie would give him a valuable Sgian Dubh and pay off the gambling debts he acquired in Edinburgh. Until then, Rupert would not be able to visit his mistress, Annalise. 

Over the last 6 years, Annalise de Marillac had advanced herself from common whore to the semi-respectable status of madam. She was a very beautiful courtesan from Paris with developed taste since her youth; there was nothing sordid or vulgar about her. With her delicate bone structure, radient blue eyes, and long luxuriant golden hair, she had the look of royalty. She was wealthy enough now to run her own establishment with a select clientele of young lairds and noblemen. She only entertained a few select men privately and Rupert was one of them.

Years ago, when Rupert and Jamie attended the University in Edinburgh, they had both been her clients. At the time, Jamie fancied himself in love with her and challenged Rupert to a duel for bedding her. Rupert accepted the challenge not for romantic reasons, he simply enjoyed a good fight. If not for Dougal’s interference, he would have killed his nephew. 

His damn nephew. Jamie was the reason he couldn’t be with Annalise tonight. Rupert was suddenly angry. He regretted his promise to his nephew as spied the scullery wench while she finished her duties. He approached her and grabbed her arm.  
“Come along wi’ me now, lass,” he grunted as he began to leave the kitchens.  
Laoghaire tried to free herself from his grip, but it was in vain. “M’ lord?” she asked suprised.  
Rupert looked her and grunted as he forcefully walked her through the keep to his bedchamber.

Laoghaire stood in Rupert’s bedchamber in a state of confusion. He took a seat before the fire.  
“Pour me a whiskey lass,” he said sternly. He watched as she walked across the room in a huff to pour him some whisky. She returned at once with his drink. Rupert downed the whisky at once and shoved the glass at her.  
“More,” he growled.  
She quickly scurried to pour him another whisky. Rupert once again downed the contents of the glass and grabbed Laoghaire’s forearm before she could move away. She frowned at him and clenched her jaw while he silently gazed over her form. She had long blonde hair that was rather greasy from the kitchens. She smelled of onions and sweat and was in need of a bath. She looked young with a plump, short stature and verra large, full breasts.  
“Scullery maid,” he grumbled under his breath with digust letting go of her arm.

Rupert sat in front of the fire in boredom. He didna find the lass entertaining at all. Jamie always has poor taste in women, with the exception of Annailase. Rupert wanted to ride out to Edinburgh that very moment, but he had given his word to Jamie.  
“You will sleep here tonight and every night on that pallet by the fire,” Rupert said to her.  
“Nay, m’lord, I canna,” she replied wildly with a look of panic.  
“You will do as I say. ‘Twill do ye no good to fight me,” he answered coldly.  
“Ye have a cruel look about ye, Milord,” she defiantly stated more to herself than to Rupert.  
The darkness in his soul was also etched upon his face. Dougal was correct that women ran from him. Until Annalise, he had never taken a woman to his bed that did not at first fear he would hurt her in some manner. “You will sleep here and do what I tell ye,” Rupert growled.  
Laoghaire stared back at him in shock. Surely he knew James favored her? “I dinna want to sleep on yer filthy pallet! I shall be verra miserable!” she cried irritably. She was a girl that was used to getting her way.  
“Hasn’t it ever occurred to ye, that you are a whore? You may work in the scullery, but that’s what ye are; a whore just the same! You played the whore to my nephew Jamie, now ye must obey me. Dinna question my orders or speak unless I tell ye. Dinna give me reason to punish ye wi’ a beating lass,” Rupert warned her icily.  
Laoghaire stomped over to her pallet and settled in for sleep with silent resentment. The women working in the keep never spoke of receiving ill treatment from a MacKenzie, especially not Rupert who ignored all the maids. She was bewildered by his demands.

Rupert felt extremely restless and violent. He was hoping the lass would object and give him good reason to whip her with his belt. Giving a good beating always put him in a better mood.


	18. The Frasers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire meets her soon to be in-laws

It was around the 12th century that the first Fraser began to build his fortress Broch Tuarach at the top of a hillside that overlooked Loch Ness. The castle walls were weathered by hundreds of years of harsh highland weather. It stood like a sentinel above the blue waters of Loch Ness and surrounded by grand mountains in the distance shrouded by mists.

Since the first highland chieftain began the fortress, the castle itself had seen the passage of time and dynasties. There had been many wars that raged around Broch Tuarach, but none as fierce as the bitter attempted siege by the MacKenzies two hundred years ago.

In the great hall, Brian Fraser, Earl and Chieftan of Broch Tuarach and its lands, sat fuming over his only son and heir. If he had known that the convenient alliance he made with the MacKenzies years ago would result in his only son considering to pledge oath to the MacKenzies, he would have continued to fight for the rest of his life.

The Frasers took part in the Rebellion of 1715 in favour of the Catholic claimant to the thrones of Scotland and England. James Stuart, the Old Pretender, as his English Protestant enemies described him, was no more fortunate than the rest of the country. He fled Scotland in defeat and was a homeless exile in Rome, while the Frasers were among those ruined on his account. Brian Fraser’s mother, a French Countess was widowed by an executioner in the public square at Edinburgh, where his father was beheaded. Brian had bought back his lands and his title by the payment of a huge fine, and kept both by living for some years in exile on his estates. Forming a truce with the MacKenzies had been a necessary for his clan’s survival.

Brian had a servant bring him his finest whisky, as he awaited the arrival of his son. Jamie was always his favorite child, he admired his spirit and even his recklessness and it was with a heavy heart that he sent him to the Mackenzie’s. His thoughts were interrupted as his daughter, Jenny, approached him. Jenny would persuade her brother to get some sense into his thick head. Unlike his favorite child, Brian and Jenny did not inherit the flaming Fraser colouring. Brian’s grandmother had been a noble from Spain, and he and Jenny both did credit to his ancestor’s blood with their black hair and dark eyes. His hair was mostly grey now, and he wore a powdered periwig in the French style, but in his youth the Earl had been known as Brian Dubh or ‘Black Brian’.

Jenny looked across the table at him with concern. Although Brian’s love for Jenny was less, his pride in her was greater. Jenny was sound, kind and sensible, yet her character was strong, perhaps stronger than his own. He was counting on Jenny to convince her brother that swearing fealty to the MacKenzies was foolish. Since the passing of their mother, Ellen MacKenzie, the two siblings had been inseparable, bound by common loss and loneliness. Brian had been too grieved and selfish to allow his children into his life until they were grown up. By that time their bonds of love were so strong that they transcended the duty they owed their father.

“Dinna fash, father. Jamie willna be willing to defy his family after this visit. He canna swear the oath. And not because of the feud with the MacKenzies, but in his own right he’s got the worst name in the Highlands due to the influence of that murdering clan.” Jenny said sternly.  
“A bunch of murderin’, cattle thieving whoremongers! The lot of them!” He said fiercely. “We have to bring Jamie home.”  
“Aye, that we do father.” 

Jamie and Claire arrived at Broch Tuarach as the sun was beginning to fall behind the mountains. They stepped into The Great Hall and Claire looked upon the walls decorated with family’s collection of arms and armour along with the hundred heads of stag in awe. Uncle Lamb would be over the moon to see a collection of such artifacts.  
“Father, Jenny.... this is my intended, Claire Thomson Beauchamp,” Jamie announced.  
Brian had prepared himself to meet Jamie with insults, but the site of Claire caught him off guard. He was expecting Jamie to come alone. He smiled and greeted Claire. “I’m enchanted,” he said with a bow.  
Jamie turned to Jenny, “We have traveled all day and Claire is in need of some rest and a bath before supper.”  
“Of course, Come wi’ me Claire,” Jenny said and led her out of the hall to the guest chambers.  
Brian looked at Jamie. “Come, son. Have a dram wi’ me before supper.” He said and motioned him to follow as he walked to the library. After the men were situated, Brian looked at Jamie and asked, “You ken the reason for your visit, and I must tell you that your sister and I have been unhappy.”  
“I understand your feelings–May I ask you to be patient with me? I must deal wi’ Colum.” Jamie asked. “I dinna want to break the peace. But Colum.... he willna be happy until I swear to the MacKenzie and will make me suffer for it. It willna be forever. When Colum dies, Dougal will be laird and I will come home.”  
“Jamie, can you not see clearly! The MacKenzies are all spawns of the devil! How many times have you gone out raiding wi’ your uncles since you were a lad? How many men have ye killed?” Brian said exasperated. He shook his head.  
“I ken the MacKenzies have a bad name and it is deserved. But Colum is relentless. He willna allow my wedding to Claire without my oath. Claire is no’ safe until she is my wife. I cannae leave Leoch without the possibility of another clan war. I have no choice.” He said.  
“You have a choice and I dinna care about the truce. We were poor after the ’15 and couldn’t stand the loss of cattle and the burning down of our crofts. But then is then and now is now! We’ve prospered; I dare say we’re richer than that old swine Colum could ever hope to be! As a MacKenzie your hands are covered in blood! The blood of my people more than any other! Do you remember women and the children when Colum set my crofts on fire?” Brian said outraged.  
“Aye! I remember the fires! That was Colum’s father that burned those crofts, no’ Colum! That is why I willna risk another clan war!” Jamie shouted.  
“Son, I advise you to seek a suitable wife among your own kin. If you can find a father who will receive ye!” Brian shouted back.  
“If I dinna marry Claire, I willna marry ever! I love her! I doona have any doubts about her, just like you didna have doubts about mother! And she was a MacKenzie!” Jamie responded coldly.  
Brian was silent. He felt a twinge if fear at the prospect of Jamie never getting married. If he said it, he meant it. Brian desperately wanted a grandson. “Then I see no reason to continue this discussion. But I warn you son, no possible good can come from this! Let us get ready for supper. I would like spend some time with your betrothed.” 

Jenny led Claire upstairs to the guest chambers. Jenny eyed her curiously as Claire gazed around the room in admiration. The paneled walls were covered in a soft pink silk, and the room filled with beautiful fine furniture. The color and elegance were a sharp contrast to the rooms in the bleak, forbidding Leoch castle.  
“What a splendid room!” Claire exclaimed.  
“Aye,” Jenny replied with a smile. “My grandmother was a French heiress. As soon as she married my grandfather she began improvements to civilize the castle.” Jenny gazed around the room proudly then looked at Claire.  
“So, Claire.... you have a French name and an English accent. How did ye come to be wi’ the MacKenzies?” She asked.  
Claire explained how she was traveling to France when she was kidnapped and the MacKenzies rescued her. Jenny listened to Claire’s story with astonishment.  
“So you mean to say, that the MacKenzie’s rescued ye, they werena the ones doin’ the kidnapping and raping?”  
“I wasn’t raped,” Claire replied sharply. “Well, not yet anyway. Murtugh rescued me before that could happen. And no, the MacKenzies did not harm me. Jamie has seen to my protection.”  
Jenny gave a wary nod as a maid entered the room. “Your bath is ready, Claire. Annie will help you dress for supper.” She said and left the room.

The young maid led Claire into a small room with a copper bath. She helped Claire out of her riding dress and into the bath. She poured in more hot water with a great deal of jasmine essence in it, and scrubbed Claire’s shoulders and back. When she was done, Claire stood up and Annie drew a soft towel round her as stepped on to the floor, leaving patches of scented water as she walked. _Jesus H. Christ!_ Not that she was feeling modest bathing naked in front of a stranger. Claire was simply not used to this pampering.

They walked back to her room, and another maid was there to assist Claire into her gown. _Two maids to dress me! Unbelievable!_ The new maid held out a soft linen shift for Claire to put on. She quickly donned it and looked at the dress Lizzie packed for her. It was taffeta, its colour a lovely, elusive sea-green shot with blue and a low cut bodice. Tiny flowers of turquoise and crystal were sewn on the bodice and scattered cleverly in the folds of her very full skirts. It was the prettiest dress Claire had ever seen. As the maids laced her into the dress, Claire gazed at herself in a long mirror. She had never looked more beautiful. The color of the dress complimented her eyes. She sat to have her hair dressed as she fought to keep her nerves calm. She hoped dinner would be a pleasant affair.

When Jamie saw Claire at the bottom of the stairs, he thought his heart would stop. Claire was the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He walked over to her and took her arm as stared into her eyes. “May I escort you to supper, My lady?” He asked with a teasing tone.  
“Please do,” Claire said breathlessly. The site of Jamie took her breath away. He was dressed like a gentleman in velvets and she had never seen him look more handsome. She found herself blushing as she looked at him, remembering the passion they had shared.

Jamie and Claire took their seats at the high table with Brian, Jenny and Brian’s wife Katherine. Brian smiled at the handsome couple with approval. They were a perfect complement to each other. Claire was taller than most lasses, yet graceful and petit, with just enough woman’s curves. She had beautiful shoulders and arms, ivory skin and the combination of her green eyes and dark hair colouring was startlingly brilliant. Brian understood why his son was besotted. She would make a fine wife.

Jenny did not share the same opinion of her brother’s betrothed. When she saw her father’s look of approval, Jenny’s mood began to sour. While her father and Jamie talked over the affairs of their estate and lands, Jenny glared at Claire with suspicion. Claire was a woman of beauty, no doubt, and knew how to wield it. Jenny did not trust her.  
“How long did you know my brother before you were betrothed?” Jenny asked Claire.  
“Well, not very long I suppose... we-”  
“Yes, when I met Claire I knew she was the one. She said no when I asked her to be my wife, but persuaded her wi’ my charm, wit and bonny face to reconsider,” Jamie interrupted arrogantly. He smiled at Claire and touched her hand. Claire blushed as Jenny rolled her eyes.  
Jamie continued, “Claire is also a rare and fine healer. The first moment I met her, my shouldn’t joint was out o’ socket. I was in terrible pain. Claire fixed my shoulder and tended to it until I was healed.”  
Brian looked at Claire with sudden interest. “A healer, you say?”  
“I’m a doctor,” Claire stated. “I attended a University for women in England.”  
It was Brian’s turn to look astonished. “They’re letting the lasses study in England? At a University?”  
Claire almost choked realizing her mistake. She was not in her century anymore! Women did not attend university! “Yes, it’s a very... very small university for only women. Most men do not support it, so there is only one like it and not many women attend. My Uncle was in favor of my education because I help him with his business.” Claire explained cautiously.

The conversation continued throughout dinner as the kitchen maids served them different dishes. Brian and Jamie were both interested in hearing about Claire’s life at the University. Claire also talked about her Uncle Lamb and their travels in her youth and she also learned more of the history of the Fraser clan. Jenny sat silently finding herself becoming more resentful of Claire by the minute.

Claire attempts to engage in conversation with Jenny were met with rebuke. As she became aware of Jenny’s animosity, Claire quickly finished her glass of wine and was poured another which she drank again... too quickly. As the meal was finishing up, Claire found herself quite tipsy and Jenny’s glare didn’t seem so intimidating.

Jamie looked at his father and said, “May I?”  
Brian nodded and Jamie stood up and motioned for a servant and then whispered something that Claire could not hear. Jamie sat back down and Claire asked, “What was that about?”  
“It’s a surprise,” he said with a smile and she noticed his father was smiling too. Jenny scowled and Katherine stared blankly at the table. The servant soon returned and put down a leather box on the table, and handed Jamie the key.  
“My betrothal present to ye Claire” Jamie said.  
He opened the box. There was a necklace inside on a bed of faded blue velvet; on each side of it there hung two pendant earrings. The stones were emeralds and diamonds of such a magnificent size that the table was silenced.  
“These were part of my mother’s dowry,” James explained. “They came from Spain originally with my great-grandmother. My mother left these and others to me when she died. It was my mother’s wish that they should be given to my wife. No other woman will wear them if you do not.” Jamie explained.  
Claire once again found herself breathless. She looked up and noticed tears in Brian Fraser’s eyes. Claire was so moved all she could do was speak from her heart.  
“I love you, Jamie Fraser,” she said and he kissed her hard and passionately at the table in front of his family. Claire felt overheated. Between the wine and the kiss, she was sure her face was completely red and flushed.

Much to Claire’s relief, supper was soon concluded. The stress of conversing with 18th century Highlanders was wearing on her. The odd part of the evening was Jamie’s stepmother Katherine. She sat at the high table but did not speak a single word the entire night. Neither Jamie, Jenny, nor Brian—the Earl as well as her husband—spoke to, or acknowledged the Countess throughout the evening. It was as if they were dining with a ghost. _Is this how the woman lives her life, in this castle and completely ignored?_ Katherine looked to be in her mid-thirties, was extremely pale and wore rouge and rice powder. Her dress was ill fitting and looked like something a much younger woman would wear–she looked so ridiculous, yet her face was so mournful, Claire felt pity for her. _The Frasers cannot be so cruel to her!_ Claire made a mental note to exchange pleasantries with the Countess in the morning. As a maid was about to lead Claire to the guest bedchambers, Jamie grabbed her once more for a goodnight kiss.  
“I will come for ye soon,” he whispered in her ear. Claire felt butterflies in her stomach.  
In her bed chambers, Claire quickly found sleep. It was a long day of riding to Broch Tuarach followed by an equally long and emotional dinner with the Frasers.

Claire felt hot and extremely aroused. She was dreaming of Jamie. He was teasing her again. He teased her body with light touches until she was begging him for more. She opened her eyes and realized it was not a dream. She woke up and her shift was pulled up over her hips, her legs were spread wide, and Jamie was settled in between her thighs teasing her most sensitive parts with his lips and tongue. Claire’s senses were overwhelmed and she immediately found her legs trembling and body clenching as she climaxed while Jamie continued to kiss and lick her center.

“I told you I would come” Jamie whispered as he moved his body over hers. Claire felt his stiff length at her center, as Jamie took possession of her mouth and passionatley kissed her. He moved his hips against hers and then sunk himself deeply into her. Claire cried out at the pleasure of him filling her completely. They moved together effortlessly, both sensing what the other needed. She continued to kiss him, taking his tongue inside her mouth and feeling it against her own. They continued to ravage each other, then Claire wrapped her legs tighter around Jamie’s body. She pulled him as close as she cried out “Jamie!” and she peaked again. Jamie felt her wet heat, and thrust himself harder into her and then lost himself collapsing on her after. They both held each other that way for a time before Jamie moved beside her. He gathered Claire in his arms and they both fell asleep completely sated.

It was sometime the next morning that Claire awoke to a noise. She opened her eyes, but there was nobody there. She looked at Jamie sleeping so peacefully beside her. She touched his face lightly, he needed the sleep she thought. At her touch Jamie’s eyes opened. He looked at her with a smile and drew her head down to kiss her lips. As Jamie continued to kiss her, Claire felt his hard length pressed against her thigh. _Jesus H. Christ... again?_ The sun was shining and the room was bright. Claire was feeling a bit shy when Jamie threw the bed clothes aside and exposed her naked body to the daylight. He smiled wickedly as he began to kiss her all over her body. He kissed her neck and then moved to her breasts. Claire closed her eyes as she enjoyed the sensations.  
“I must have ye now,” Jamie growled.  
He sat up on his knees and pulled Claire’s legs apart to rest on either side of him. In one swift motion he pulled her hips up and off the bed to meet his own. He drove himself inside her and as Claire moaned despite feeling shy in the morning light. Jamie’s eyes were filled with intense passion as he held her hips up and watched himself sink into her. He took one hand began to tease her sensitive nub as he thrust into her. Claire soon forgot herself and reveled in their lovemaking and quickly felt on the verge of climaxing again. She spread her own legs wider and encouraged his thrusts.... “Jamie please!” She cried out.  
At the same moment she heard a noise. Someone was in the room, but she continued to climax as Jamie reached his own peak. Later as they laid together still in bed, Claire wondered about that noise.  
“Jamie, did someone come in the room, and see us?” She asked.  
“Aye,” he said. “Dinna fash Claire, it was just a maid. They’ve seen much worse,” he said with a chuckle. “But we do have to get ready to be on our way. The Gathering is within a few days. We have to ride back to Leoch today.”  
Claire sighed. “Alright then, Jamie... we ride back today,” she said without enthusiasm. Claire was going to miss the comfortable rooms of Broch Tuarach. Castle Leoch was downright primitive in comparison.

Jenny was in the Great Hall breaking her fast when her maid Annie approached.  
“You were supposed to dress Claire and bring her downstairs to break her fast,” she reprimanded.  
Annie looked at her fearfully. “Mistress, I cannae!” She cried.  
Jenny frowned. “What do you mean, ye cannae? I told you to tend to Claire, you will dress her and bring her downstairs to break her fast,” Jenny said repeated sternly.  
“I cannae go in that room Mistress!” She cried and ran off to the kitchens.  
Jenny was completely perplexed. No servant at Broch Tuarach would dare defy her order. Once again, she found herself irritated. She got up and went to the guest quarters herself. There must be a reason why her maid so defiant.

Jenny opened Claire’s door to find her brother and Claire completely naked in the bed. Claire’s legs were spread wide and over his shoulders and Jamie was thrusting violently into her as she called out his name. Jenny was stunned and quickly closed the door and returned downstairs.

Jenny had led a sheltered life. She’d never traveled more than 30 miles of Broch Tuarach but she wasn’t naive. For years she had heard many rumors of her brother’s indiscretions. In fact, Jamie once dueled with his own uncle over a whore that he claimed he loved. Jenny froze. Her suspicions of Claire were a woman’s intuition. She suddenly understood why Jamie had asked her to send trunks of her mother’s finery. Claire wasn’t kidnapped, she was a common whore. She doesn’t own any finery. She doesn’t have any titles or lands! She’s a whore her brother was trying to pass off as a ‘lady’! A gently raised lady would be a virgin! Jenny felt a wave of astonished fury. The brothels in Edinburgh...That’s where he found the Sassenach whore. She vowed at that moment to stop this wedding. He was heir to their castle and all their lands. Jamie simply could not marry a woman of low birth! He could not marry a whore! Jenny loved her brother, but she could not allow him to bring shame upon the Fraser clan. She would find a way to keep Jamie and his fortune out of Claire’s reach.


	19. Beaton’s Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire saves Column’s life, wins his approval and becomes the official MacKenzie clan healer.... Meanwhile in Paris.... Claire’s distant relatives become aware of her presence in this century...

Claire and Jamie took a more leisurely pace returning to Leoch. They both found themselves much more relaxed now that peace had been made with the Frasers. Claire was able to enjoy the beauty of the Highlands while Jamie enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding her close and whispering Gaelic words of love in her ear. Before they reached the keep, a MacKenzie scout had approached them on horseback with grave news of their Laird. 

A hunt had taken place that day in preparation for the gathering. The MacKenzies were great hunters and the woods on their vast lands were full of game. Colum had taken a fall off his horse and been attacked by a wild boar. The prognosis was grim. Most expected him to die during the night. The entire clan had been arriving steadily at Leoch for the gathering. Since most of the clan elders were present, there was talk among the men about arranging a council meeting to vote for a new laird. Dougal, the MacKenzie warlord, was expected to win the vote as chieftain. Jamie was favored to take his place as warlord to train and lead the warriors.

When Jamie and Claire entered the Great Hall of the keep, the lack of a woman’s touch was suddenly evident to Claire—there were no cloths on the tables, and traces of dried food clung to the surfaces of tables and benches alike. The rushes on the floor gave off the odor of rotting food and undisciplined dogs. Tattered tapestries hung on the walls, it was a stark contrast to the elegance of Broch Tuarach. Claire scrunched her nose at the smell of the hall as Fergus walked over to greet them. With tears in his eyes, he explained Colum’s accident in detail.  
“My lord, his leg has been ripped apart. The physician said there is no choice but to amputate! He is weak, My lord.... very weak,” Fergus told them solemnly in a hushed voice.  
“Take Claire up to her room and guard her door. I will see Colum now,” Jamie said abruptly as he began to walk to the laird’s chambers.  
“Wait!” Claire yelled and ran after him. She grabbed his arm. “Jamie! Stop! I’m coming with you. I’m a doctor after all... I did fix your shoulder... remember?” She looked at him anxiously.  
“Claire, I hardly think this is a place for a lady. The Laird may die... Your wee herbs and stitching canna fix a leg that has been torn apart.” Jamie said wearily.  
“The hell it can’t! I’m going with you and I will see his injury,” she said with fierce determination. Jamie was too anxious to see his uncle to argue. With a nod of his head, Claire and Fergus followed him to see his uncle.

They entered the solemn Laird’s chambers to a gruesome scene. The doctor that had been sent, was preparing to amputate the leg that the boar had attacked. Blood was plentiful on the sheets and Colum looked close to death. Dougal explained they couldn’t stop the bleeding and amputation was his only chance at survival. Claire met Dougal’s gaze. For once, the man did not appear to be smiling as his lips pressed together tight forming a thin white line.  
“May I?” She asked him. Dougal nodded and Claire approached the bed.  
Claire stood over Colum and touched his body. She honed into her diagnostic sense and felt the ripped muscle and torn flesh, all that could be healed. She also sensed the small tear and saw the steady bleeding. The blood was not gushing though and the femoral artery was not torn. She looked down at Colum and smiled. She could stop the bleeding. Claire checked his vitals. He was very weak and more blood loss would result in death. He has broken his tibia bone in 2 places and had severe damage to his Soleus and Gastrocnemius muscles. He would live she thought, and she pushed as much healing energy as she could into his body. The wound looked much worse than the actual damage, although, she was sure the leg would pain him at times for the rest of his life. 

Dougal moved next to her as he was gazing at the hideous wound. “Can he live?” He asked her.  
“Yes” Claire answered confidently.  
Colum was in and out of consciousness. he opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful highland woman standing over him.  
“My angel!” He croacked. “You’re here! Dinna leave me Angel!” He said hoarsely.  
The rest of the clan in the room looked at Claire curiously. Colum had not spoken or been conscious in many hours. The doctor, who was preparing to amputate, suddenly stepped forward and began instructing men to hold him down.  
“Stop! You’ll kill him,” Claire screamed. She turned to Dougal. “It’s too late to amputate. He lost too much blood. If he loses anymore blood... he will not survive. I can heal him. I need to stop the blood loss immediately. Then I will set the bones and stitch all the wounds. He will not be able to walk for several months, but in time he will be restored to full health” Claire said impatiently. She then began to bark instructions to those around her.

Dougal and Jamie both eyed her curiously. Claire was a mercurial creature who alternated between childlike whimsy and shrewd intelligence. If Jamie did not see it for himself, he would not have thought this wisp of a woman capable of taking charge to tend to such gruesome wound. Most women would faint at the mere site of such an injury. Although Dougal had some doubts while gazing at the butchered limb, he did not believe brother would live through an amputation and was willing to take a chance on Claire. Even if Colum did live after amputation, he may kill his brothers for allowing his leg to be cut.

Father Bain, the portly priest that served the local parish and castle, approached Dougal as Claire began instructing the men. His eyes were ablaze with outrage.  
“Milord, ye canna allow this lass to put hands upon the Laird. ‘Tis the devil that works—”  
“That’ll do now, Father Bain!” Dougal interrupted loudly. He grabbed the rotund priest’s arm forcibly. With an iron grip, Dougal led the priest out of Colum’s room.  
“We’ll send for ye, _Father..._ when we need the last rites.” Dougal growled as he shoved the priest out of the room. Dougal turned and went to stand with Jamie.  
“Let her fix him,” he said. “If Colum’s only hope at survival is missing a leg, I’m sure he’d rather we let him die.”  
“Aye” Jamie nodded solemnly in agreement.

Claire took command of the situation and every MacKenzie soldiers that night. Each warrior had instructions that all orders issued by Claire must be obeyed. Once Claire had staunched the bleeding in Colum’s leg, she had Jamie and Fergus take her to the late healer’s surgery, or ‘Beaton’s Closet’, as they called it. She was hoping to find the tools necessary to clean and sew his wounds.

Jamie and Fergus carried torches as they led her to the surgery of the late Beaton. It proved to be in a remote corner of the castle, tucked out of sight behind the kitchens. It was in close proximity to nothing save the graveyard, in which its late proprietor now rested. In the outer wall of the castle, the narrow, dark room boasted only one of the tiny slit windows, set high in the wall so that a flat plane of sunlight knifed through the air, separating the darkness of the high vaulted ceiling from the deeper gloom of the floor below.

Upon entering the room, Claire immediately made her way to a tall cabinet, equipped with dozens of tiny drawers, each with a label in curlicue script. Jars, boxes, and vials of all shapes and sizes were neatly stacked on the shelves above a counter where the late Beaton evidently had been in the habit of mixing medicines. Claire rummaged through the various drawers, throwing most of what she found aside while Jamie and Fergus stood close holding the light. Rummaging through a box, Claire found what she was looking for. She set aside a brass funnel and a cylindrical object with a handle at one end and a needlelike projection at the other.  
“What is that, Milady?” Fergus asked.  
“A syringe. Colum’s wounds are deep, the only way to irrigate and cleanse it thoroughly is to use this.” Claire replied as she continued to search through the supplies. She found surgical needles to sew his wounds in addition to a few vials of medicinal herbs she could use to help prevent infection. Satisfied that she found the useful implements in the surgery, Claire was ready to return to her patient.

Claire spent the rest of the night tending to Colum. Jamie and Dougal stood watch as a dozen MacKenzie soldiers stood around the bed holding candles to give Claire the light necessary to tend to Colum. Mrs. FitzGibbons stayed up all night as well bringing boiled brews that Claire had requested. Claire took hours carefully sewing Colum’s wounds and setting his broken bones. She took measurements for crutches to be made and informed Jamie and Colum that he would not be able to walk unaided for many months. When Claire was finally satisfied that Colum was stable, she approached Jamie and Dougal.  
“I know you both must be exhausted. I think we can all take some rest now and have one of the maids look after Colum. Nothing more can be done for him now,” Claire said. She looked completely exhausted and her eyes were puffy and red.  
“Will he survive?” Dougal asked grimly.  
“He already has,” Claire stated as a matter of fact. “It is morning, and he is indeed... alive. His broken bones will take time to heal, but the wounds are no longer bleeding. He is in no danger of bleeding to death. For now, he is stable. I will keep watch over the coming days for fever and infection. I cleansed the wounds very thoroughly, but there is always a chance of fever. His leg will bear some ugly scars and slight deformity, but he will be able to walk eventually.”  
Dougal nodded. “I thank you Claire, perhaps ye are an Angel?” He said with his sardonic grin returning.  
“I will take Claire to rest now, I dinna want my betrothed to fall ill.... she needs her rest,” Jamie said as he possessively put his arm around her. “Dougal, find a servant to keep watch on Colum.” He led Claire out of the room.

Jamie walked Claire down the hall and stopped before a door and opened it.  
“What room is this Jamie? This isn’t my chamber?” Claire asked confused.  
“I ken it’s no’ your chamber. It’s mine. You need your rest and ye will be closer to Column here than in your own room,” he said as led her into his chamber.  
Claire began to undress herself and swooned a bit. Jamie rushed to her side.  
“You are worn out lass,” he said sympathetically. Jamie made quick work or undoing her laces and ripping her riding dress off. Claire had washed her hands, but she was still covered dust from the ride to Leoch as well as some blood from tending Colum all night. Before Claire could remark about needing to wash, Mrs. FitzGibbons was already entering the room with 4 servants bringing a bath. Claire marveled at her lack of modesty in front of servants.  
_‘Perhaps I’m not so out of place in this century at all,’_ she thought to herself.  
“You take such good care of me,” Claire said tenderly to Jamie as he assisted her into the tub.  
“I am your servant, mo duinne,” Jamie replied.  
Claire smiled as she allowed Jamie to help her bathe and see her to bed. She was exhausted to the bone. When her head touched the pillow in his bed, she fell asleep instantly with Jamie’s arms around her.

That week at Leoch was bustling. News of the Laird’s recovery spread throughout the keep. The ceremonies of the gathering had to be postponed, but since most MacKenzies had traveled too far, they decided to stay. Hundreds of tents surrounded the castle of Leoch and the days were filled with games and hunting parties. There were more people at the castle than anyone ever remembered and Jamie was more vigilant about Claire’s safety. 

Jamie assigned Fergus to be Claire’s full time guard. He was to follow her anywhere and everywhere and never let her out of his site. Fergus was the only MacKenzie warrior he trusted with Claire’s life. He first met Fergus 6 years ago when he was at the University in Edinburgh. At the time, Jamie was fond of a courtesan named Annalise. She fled Paris with her younger brother Claudel after a scandal had destroyed their family. By escaping to Scotland, Annalise and her brother had also escaped imprisonment in the Bastille. Claudel was just 10 summers when Jamie met him. He had picked Jamie’s pockets while he was entertained by Annalise. As angry as he was at the time, he had a soft spot for the boy as he knew the hardships he endured with his sister. It was Annalise’s idea the Claudel foster at Leoch. She wanted him to learn the skills of a warrior, and he could not continue living in the brothel with her. Jamie took Claudel under his wing and gave him the nickname Fergus, as Claudel wouldn’t be fitting of a Highland warrior. Over the years Fergus flourished and at 16 years was almost as skilled with a claymore as Jamie was. Fergus swore his allegiance and was officially Fergus MacKenzie. He still had a slight French accent, but was considered, along with Hamish, a future leader of the clan.

With Fergus in tow, Claire went very early each morning to visit Column and how his wounds were healing. Colum was still heavily medicated with laudanum for the pain and was unconscious for the duration of her visits. It was in Colum’s chamber that Dougal found her and requested to talk privately.  
Claire eyed him suspiciously, “You can say anything you need to right here. Your brother is not conscious,” she informed Dougal.  
Dougal paused for a moment. He took a breath then nodded, “I watched you care for my brother. I ken you’ve seen men die before.... you’ve seen violence.” He stated.  
”Yes, I am a doctor. I’ve treated men with wounds from war.” Claire stated.  
He smiled grimly and nodded. He thought Claire to be a healer for British troops. If he could keep her here, she would be valuable to his own warriors.  
“I just wanted to give ye these lass.” He said as he handed her some keys. “The keys to Beaton’s Closet. I ken you went there to find some instruments to heal my brother. Will you consider bein’ the MacKenzie healer?” He humbly asked her.  
Claire’s eyes widened. “Of course! I would consider it an honor my lord!” She said with excitement. She would have her own surgery. “I must say though, there are some things that the surgery is lacking,” Claire told him cautiously.  
“Shall we should take a look at the surgery together lass?” Dougal asked and held out his arm. Claire accepted and motioned to Fergus who followed them out of the room and to the surgery.  
“I see Jamie has his wee stray puppy following ye around the keep,” Dougal remarked irritated.  
“Yes, it’s for my safety. I trust Fergus, do you have a problem with him My lord?” Claire challenged.  
“Nay, the stray puppy can follow as long as he stays on our heels,” Dougal replied with a smile.

They reached the surgery and Dougal gave her the keys. They inspected the surgery and Dougal promised a thorough cleaning and some supplies Claire requested. He then left her to the surgery and Claire smiled at Fergus.  
“My own surgery! I hope you won’t mind watching over me here every day!” She exclaimed to him. Claire finally felt like she had a purpose again.

Later on that evening, when Claire was attending Colum, he awoke to her cleansing and changing the dressings on his wounds.  
“Mistress” he croaked.  
“Yes, my laird,” Claire said. She immediately went to his side.  
“Ye saved me, my Angel” he said.  
“I’m not sure I’m an angel, but I did save your leg,” Claire said softly with a smile.  
“I’m sorry I locked you in the tower lass... I dinna ken...” he said trailing off.  
“Hush, you need your rest. No need to apologize,” Claire responded graciously.  
“Nay lass, my nephew loves ye, and I willna object. We will announce the wedding at the gathering. You have the look of a Highlander. Thomson.... Julia Thomson, she used to live here.... your kin?” He asked.  
“Yes, she is my kin, I didn’t meet her, but I know of her.” She answered.  
“Aye” Colum responded. “You look just like a Thomson. It’s the eyes lass.... Aye... ye have my blessing,” he said and then drifted back to sleep.  
Claire smiled and then continued to tend to his wounds while he slept. Leoch suddenly felt like a much more welcoming home.... home?  
When had she started thinking of this place as home? And he mentioned her mother. She had lived here. Perhaps she would learn about her after all.... perhaps there was a reason she was here.

Mother Hildegarde was sitting in her office at L’Hôpital des Anges—a charity hospital in the Faubourg Saint-German district of Paris. She was disturbed. For over a month, she’d been having prophetic dreams.... dreams of her lineage. The last dream was most disturbing. One of her kin was in danger.... it had found her and made her a prisoner. _‘Le Monstre’_ Mother Hildegard thought as she shuttered.

Espy Elizabeth Thomson, known as Mother Hildegarde, had not thought of her kin in many years. Her gift for healing had made her charity hospital a success and also given her an unusually long life. She thought herself the only Thomson living during this time, and therefore, hid in plain site as ‘Mother Hildegard’.

 _‘This is not a coincidence,’_ Espy wrote as she penned a letter to her husband, Monsieur Raymond. He had an apothecary shop downtown. She would send him to Scotland to see about her kin; If she existed, she would only be safe in their care. She hoped it was not too late.


	20. Hell Hath No Fury...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire finds her place with the MacKenzies at Leoch.... her happiness is short-lived...
> 
> **** side note, if you read my previous chapter posted a day ago, I added three new and pretty important paragraphs to it at the end****

Over the coming weeks, Colum’s health continued to improve rapidly. Since the Laird’s life was no longer in danger, the gathering was set to take place on a fortnight and clan members continued to arrive to the keep. While Jamie was seeing to the warrior’s training every morning and keeping peace within the clan, Claire was spending more time in her new surgery tending to the superficial wounds of various clan members caused by the daily games taking place at the keep. Scraped knees, broken fingers, and the occasional stitchings, Claire found herself quite busy as well as pleasantly content. She no longer felt like a hostile presence at Leoch; otherwise known as a _Sassenach._

Claire saw Colum daily, and as his health improved, so did his mood. She spent much of their time together helping Colum to learn to walk again using the crutches she had fashioned for him. Claire also began to look forward to their daily conversations. She had never considered herself to be an entertaining person; but she passed the time with Colum reciting folklore from her time, calling them ‘Fairytales’ and Colum proved to be a receptive audience. He also told her tales of ancient clan legends and history that Claire found fascinating. She had never cared for history when she was married to Frank, but Colum was a gifted storyteller and could hold Claire’s attention for hours. The most unlikely of friendships was being formed. _Soon, I will ask him about Julia,_ Claire thought to herself.

After her morning visit with Colum, Claire went down to her surgery and found young blonde girl sitting before the fire.  
“Hello, my name is Claire, I’m the clan healer. How may I help you?” Claire asked as she motioned for the young woman to come over to sit on the patient bed.  
“Mistress, I ken ye are a wise woman. I’m carryin’ a man’s bairn. I’m needin’ yer help to open his heart to me...” she said shyly as she stood and hesitantly walked over to Claire.  
“You’re pregnant?” Claire asked. “Come over to sit on the bed and I can examine you,” she said as she went to wash her hands.  
“Mistress, I thank ye. Do ye ha’ a wee a charm? Or a potion for openin’ the heart?” She asked.  
“Charm? Potion? What do you mean? You said you are pregnant, correct? I’m a doctor and will examine your health and determine the health of your baby,” Claire replied barely able to comprehend the young girl’s speech.  
“Nay Mistress... I wish a charm or potion to open a man’s heart to me. I love him. I wish to marry and have his bairn,” she cried.  
Claire sighed. “There’s no such thing as a potion that can force a man to love,” Claire said softly to the naive young girl.  
“Please, Mistress! Ye must help me. If I canna ha’ James Fraser, I dinna want to live! I canna live wi’ the shame o’ a bastard. Please, the bairn!” She cried and tears started rolling down her cheeks.  
“James Fraser?” Claire asked slowly.  
“Aye” she sobbed, “I ha’ warmed his bed for two years.... I carry his bairn and he willna marry me like he promised! He must marry me!” She continued as tears flowed down her cheeks.

 _Jesus H. Christ! Another man... another liar!_ Claire was furious. She had been so certain that Jamie’s feelings had been sincere. Maybe her sixth sense was not accurate at all times. Claire had just about enough of Castle Leoch—and of Scotland. She wanted to go home. The thought of Jamie’s seduction and marriage proposal when he had already promised himself to another was more than she could bear. The girl was practically a child! If not for her well endowed bosom, Claire would have thought the girl to be no more than 14 years old. Claire took deeps breaths and tried to keep herself calm. She was in time warp that she didn’t quite understand. She felt safe with Jamie and perhaps it wasn’t love they shared after all. She felt no love at all that moment, only anger. _I need to find a way home, I must find Uncle Lamb... It was a nice dream, Beauchamp, but it’s not real and you’re not safe... you don’t belong here and you know it,_ she thought to herself.

With a placid countenance, Claire turned and looked at the young girl. Claire was determined to keep her raw emotions hidden. She moved to the boxes to be destroyed and rummaged through them. There was no shortage of disgusting remedies to be found among them. She searches through the box and found the small bottle of dried maggots...

“Take this bottle,” she instructed as she handed a vial of dried maggots to the girl. “Swallow 4 of these each day in the morning when you break your fast” Claire instructed. _Let her eat maggots,_ she thought cruelly then immediately thought better of it. This is Jamie’s fault. “Give me that bottle back,” she said coldly. “That will not do.”

She spied the bottle of horse dung. Claire smiled wickedly. _Oh... Jamie would not get away with what he’s done._   
“This bottle carries the potion you need,” Claire said solemnly as she handed it to the girl. “The contents in this bottle hold magical properties... you must soften its contents with heat and a small bit of water... rub it over your body... just a small amount... do you understand?” Claire asked the girl. She nodded eagerly, staring at Claire attentively.  
“The most important part, if you can manage.... otherwise the potion will not work..... you must rub it on your man’s....“ Claire trailed off, she felt a bit of guilt. “You are aware of that part that becomes aroused on a man?” She asked cautiously.  
“Och, Aye Mistress!” the young blonde answered a bit too enthusiastically.  
Claire felt her blood boil with rage and her guilt dissolve. She did not feel the least bit of remorse as she continued with her instructions.  
“You must ready him with the potion and then make love with him. Afterwards, you will have a bond not even death can break... he will be yours forever.” Claire said with icy confidence.  
The young blonde squealed with delight. She took the potion and thanked Claire profusely as she exited the surgery with haste.  
“What a stupid girl,” Claire muttered then took a seat before the fire and cried.

After training practice, Jamie was in his chambers performing his ablutions when he heard a loud pounding on his door. All morning he had been breaking up fights and trying to instill some discipline in a very rowdy clan. The momentum for the gathering was building and all were in high spirits... and most of his men were high on spirits. More than a few of his men had started taking their cups in the morning. Jamie withdrew to his chambers for a few moments of well deserved peace. The banging continued.  
“Oh, Christ!” he whispered. Jamie walked up to the door and opened it “What is it now?” He growled.  
Rupert stood before him and threw a large linen in his face.  
“What the devil... Rupert! What the hell are ye about?” Jamie exclaimed.  
Rupert look at him and laughed. “I came to give ye proof... The scullery wench started her courses this morning. She is no wi’ bairn. I kept the stinkin’ wench away from ye and sleeping on a pallet in my chambers every night. I’ll take my reward now.” He said with a self satisfied smile.  
“Christ, Rupert! Are ye daft then? Your word was the proof! I didnae need the bloody linen!” Jamie said shaking his head with disgust.  
Rupert continued to stare at him expectantly and Jamie walked through his chamber to retrieve the antique Sgian-dubh while muttering Gaelic curses under his breath. Jamie handed Rupert the small sword which he accepted with a smile.  
He gave a bow to Jamie and said in a mocking tone, “My thanks to ye, _My Lord._ ” He laughed arrogantly as he exited the room.  
“To hell wi’ ye!” Jamie said and shut his door. Jamie stared at the soiled linen. He bunched it up and hid it out of site. He didn’t need to see evidence of his shame. He would burn the linen in the fires outside later that night.

Laoghaire watched from a small window alcove as Rupert left Jamie’s room. Rupert had let her leave his room early in the morning when she started her courses. She was certain Rupert would tell James she was no wi’ bairn. She was losing James. She did not understand why he did no’ love her. She had given her maidenhead to James as well as kept his bed warm ever since. She had hoped to be carryin’ his bairn by now. She knew the Fraser clan would force James to marry her. 

Laoghaire looked down at the small vial she held with hope; she would seduce him again. She was pleased with herself for obtaining the love potion from Claire with her tears and pleas alone. She did not have enough coin for a potion from the wise woman in the village. She smiled as checked the hall again. She could force James to marry her. When she was sure Rupert was far from the bedchambers, she quietly made her way to Jamie’s door.

Laoghaire tested the door and was grateful it was not locked. She entered Jamie’s chambers quietly holding in her hand the small vial of love potion. She had already rubbed a small amount on her own body. She only now had to seduce Jamie and rub a little bit of the potion on him.

The door clicked and Jamie turned around. There standing in his chamber was Laoghaire, the last person he ever cared to see.  
“What are ye about lass? This castle is full of visitors... there is plenty of work to be done... why are ye no’ helping your clan?” He asked coldly.  
“James,” she said sweetly. “I missed ye... I ken there is work to be done, but I must talk wi’ ye,” Laoghaire said smiling. “Ye ken I love ye more than anythin’ in the world James Fraser” she said softly.  
Laoghaire walked hesitantly over to Jamie and put her hands on his chest. Jamie took her hands away and looked down at her with an expression she had seen once or twice before, a look of cold, irritated boredom that could develop in a moment into the kind of anger that silenced a nagging woman.  
“Dinnae be angry wi’ me,” she said quickly.  
Jamie suddenly pushed Laoghaire aside and screamed at her, “Angry? Laoghaire! Why in hell do you smell like horseshite?”  
Laoghaire just stared at him with confusion as Jamie continued his rant. “Have you just been rutting with a stable boy? Then ye come to my room? The Laird’s nephew! Smelling like horse shite! I should have you whipped publicly for such insolence from a kitchen wench!” Jamie yelled at her.

Laoghaire felt desperate. Now it was her turn to abase herself once again; she wanted James so much that she had long since lost all sense of shame. She fell to her knees. She put some potion on her hand and tried to reach under his kilt. She tried to grab his cock, but Jamie smacked her hand away. The bottle of potion fell to the ground and Jamie picked it up and threw it across the room.  
“What are ye about lass? I’ll no’ ask ye again! I’ll just take ye to the Great Hall and whip you myself!” He bellowed at her as Laoghaire began to cry circling herself in a heap on his floor.  
Through her tears, Laoghaire chocked out the words, “The wise woman gave me a potion, she said it will bond us forever if we were to join wi’ it. I love ye James, I cannae lose ye,” she sobbed pathetically.  
“Wise woman?” Jamie asked. “We dinna have a wise woman at Leoch.”  
“Aye, Claire, the wise woman in Beaton’s closet,” she cried. “She gave me the potion.”

Jamie walked over to where he threw the bottle with the potion knowing Loaghaire was ignorant and illiterate. “Dung of Horse” the bottle read. Jamie’s stomach dropped and he suddenly felt like he was going to be ill.... He walked over to Laoghaire and lifted her off the ground. With swift steps he carried her to the door, put her on her feet and forcibly pushed her into the hall.  
“Dinnae ever think ye may enter my chambers again! You are a silly lass! If I find you here again, I will banish you from the keep, and ye can wash the linens for the crofters in the village!” Jamie yelled with a fierce look in his eye. Laoghaire shrank from him in the hallway as he slammed his door. 

Jamie paced his room anxiously... _‘Claire... What did that scullery maid say to Claire...’_ Jamie thought uneasily. _‘Claire is not a fool, she would ken...’_ Jamie felt like he was going to be sick. He decided he would first find Rupert and slit his throat, next he would throw himself before Claire on his knees and beg for forgiveness. With renewed purpose, Jamie swiftly left his chambers.

Claire spent the rest of the afternoon in her chambers with the door barred. She knew at some point Jamie would come looking for her. She sent her maid, Lizzie, with Fergus in tow to bring their dinner to her chambers. Claire wanted to be alone. She wanted to think. She found a book of records in the surgery of the late Beaton and temporarily lost herself in reading over the records of his patients. After reading his notes and remedies prescribed, it was a wonder anyone lived after being treated by the Beaton. His remedies were absolutely barbaric. She had a quiet dinner with Lizzie and then took to her bed early while Lizzie continued working on her embroidery in front of the fire.

During the night, Claire felt restless. Moonlight poured in through her window. It was not even very late, not past midnight. Lizzie was fast asleep. Claire put on her dress and cape and carefully opened her door. She needed fresh air. Outside her door, Fergus was half asleep in his pallet settled in the empty hallway. He suddenly awoke and looked at her confused.  
“Fergus, I need some air. Walk me to the gardens please,” Claire whispered. Fergus nodded and rose from his pallet. Claire made her way silently through the keep to the back doors in the kitchens and stepped outside into the moonlit garden. There was no sound but the movement of a gentle wind that stirred the trees. Beyond the steps there was an arbour, shaded by creepers and flowering shrubs. The smell of them was sweet and strong and she began to walk towards it. 

She was in the shadow of the trees when someone sprang on her, and a hand covered her mouth, stifling her cry of fear, and then the arms which held her were familiar and the voice that whispered turned her to stone. Her body recognized him and her senses leapt in agony at the warmth and the touch. He turned her round and held her, still covering her lips with his hand, and then the hand was gone and his mouth met hers and took possession of it, demanding, desperate, and in that second she was lost and her lips opened. For a long moment they stayed still, fused by his physical strength so that she was incapable of struggling free. His hold was so powerful that he hurt her, but the pain in her arms only added to the torturing delight of that wild savage kiss which denied her speech and breath until, at last, he raised his head and they were face to face.

“My love,” Jamie said. “My love, my Sorcha… I had to see you.” Claire pulled away from him, appalled at herself, her body trembling, her skin burning where he had touched her. “You bastard,” she spat at him. “You are a lying bastard …”  
“Abuse me all you wish,” he told her, and she heard his voice break. “I knew if I could only find ye, it would be all right again. Oh, Claire, whatever you say I ken what happened when I held ye in my arms … my love, listen to me for one moment!”  
“Listen to you!” Claire backed away from him, but he had caught her hands and held them. “Listen to the man who took my love and my trust while he betrayed me? You asked me to marry you, while you promised yourself to another who carries your child! I will NOT listen to you!” She yelled.  
He came close to her and fell on his knees. “I’ve never knelt to God or man for as long as I can remember,” he said hoarsely. “But I’m at your feet now, and all I ask is that you will believe me and forgive me. No woman carries my bairn. I would never play ye false, Claire.”  
Claire heard an echo from the ghost that has been her best friend, _‘Men are natural born liars’_  
“Oh! So you have been with her!” She said jealously.  
His brows drew together for a moment, then raised in inquiry. “Her? Laoghaire, ye mean? Aye—I asked honesty of you, and I’ve given ye the same. And I give it to you now. The girl has no claim on me beyond that of courtesy. You’d not worry yourself over the lassie, would ye now, Mo nighean?” he asked shrewdly. “She’s naught to you—or me.”  
Hearing her name spoken in that casual Highland lilt—“ L’heer”—suddenly made Claire irrationally angry. “I’ve seen other pregnant maids too, Jamie! For all I know, you and your disgusting uncles have impregnated every _lass_ in the entire fucking keep!”  
“Please, Claire...Mo nighean dubh.... I’m no better than most men. Sometimes I try, but I dinna always manage. I only ask you to forgive my past sins!”

His face was in shadow and she could not be sure, but from the sound of his voice she thought that he was weeping. Claire took a moment to consider his plea... It was no use though as uncertainty got the better of her. She did not belong here. It was a dream—a real life dream becoming a nightmare. She had to get back to the circle of stones. _‘It’s time find a way home, I don’t belong here,’_ Claire thought silently to herself.  
“I never loved you,” she said slowly. “As you never loved me. There was nothing between us but lust. And lust is all you’ve ever known. You’re free to seduce any _lassie_ you wish. I will not marry you or allow you to touch me ever again.” she said icily.  
“If I took you now you’d submit. I ken it, and you ken it!” Jamie said passionately. “And it’s no’ just lust! All I ask is you forgive me, my only love.... I beg of ye, forgive me!” Jamie pleaded.  
There was a moment when temptation came upon her, a temptation so strong that she felt herself move and knew that in one more moment she would throw herself into his arms and swear that nothing mattered. Her only defence against herself was to attack him, and the hand which had reached out towards him now swung round and struck him a violent blow across the face.  
“That is my forgiveness! Now go find your young.... pretty.... little.... chamber maid and personal whore! I’m sure she’ll comfort you with her gigantic bosom!” She screamed.  
Jamie touched his cheek very slowly. The moonlight was on Claire now and all he could see was the beautiful face he loved contorted by loathing, and the hatred in her shining green eyes. Jamie turned and swiftly ran out of the garden.

“Jamie!” Claire cried out his name before she could stop herself but he had gone, and there was nothing but the shadowed arbour and the sound of the rising wind. He did not look back; he ran through the garden and out through the little side gate. He did not look back and so he did not see her slowly sink down on her knees or hear the sound of her weeping.


	21. Blood of my Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all

The next day was the first day of June and the weather was getting warm delivering the brilliance of the fleeting Scottish summer. Claire awoke to a day so lovely and so full of the sun’s radiance that she preferred the coolness and gloom of the Castle. 

The competition games of the Gathering were beginning and in just a day there would be the Oath-Taking ceremony. The fighting men of the MacKenzie clan would be in the great hall, to make their oaths of allegiance to Colum and the MacKenzie clan. With a ceremony of this importance going on inside the keep, no one would be watching the stables. Claire knew this was the perfect time to escape the castle, and ride back to Inverness and to the standing stones. She just had to figure out a way to lose Fergus who was following her around the keep like a second shadow. Perhaps if she spiked his drink and he was drunk at the ceremony, she could sneak away to the stables alone. 

She headed quietly towards the kitchens to find some food she could stow away for her journey. A constant stream of foodstuffs poured into the great kitchens in preparation for the ceremonies, and more than twenty skinned carcasses hung in the slaughter shed, behind a screen of fragrant smoke that kept the flies away. Hogsheads of ale were delivered by wagon and carted down to the castle cellars, bags of fine flour were brought up from the village mill for baking, and baskets of cherries and apricots were fetched daily from the orchards outside the castle wall.

It had been one month since her journey through time at Craigh Na Dun... Claire wondered if it was possible to time warp her way home. There must be a way. _If I even make it home... what in the hell am I going to do about Frank?_ She knew she could no longer be a wife to him. 

Jamie awoke in a black mood. The first thing he wanted to do was to throttle Rupert, but he needed to check in with Fergus. The many unfamiliar faces at the castle were making Jamie uneasy. He’d ordered Fergus not to leave Claire’s side, and he knew Murtagh kept watch as well. The thought of Claire brought the urgent need to see her and talk to her, but Jamie knew he needed to bide his time for now.

Jamie entered the great hall to join the warriors as they broke their fast. He spied Fergus as he gazed across the large room—as well as Laoghaire. He made his way across the room where Fergus sat while keeping a close eye on Laoghaire as she walked around the tables serving ale. He watched her flirt with every man who came within her range with loathing. He needed Rupert’s help once again.

The castle and grounds were swarming with the MacKenzie clan in anticipation of the day’s festivities and competitions. The banner of the Stuarts was flying once again and some members of the clan were rallying around it and to the romantic symbol of their vanished independence, Prince Charles himself. Jamie approached Rupert with a hearty slap on his back. “What do you say we show our clansmen how well ye can wield your sword, _Lad,_ ” Jamie announced.  
“Ye want to fight me?” Rupert challenged.  
“Just a friendly display of swordsmanship. Show everyone how ’tis done.” Jamie announced amiably.  
Murtagh stepped between them. “Jamie, I must insist upon a private word with you.”  
“Later, later...” Jamie said and tried to shove him aside.  
“Are you crazy, Jamie? Why are ye challenging Rupert?” Murtagh said with impatience.  
“I’m no’ crazy, but I think Rupert may be. Dinna fash, Murtagh! This challenge has been years in the making... If I’m wounded, I will recover. He willna win.” Jamie said confidently.

Rupert stood some twenty feet away, his sword at the ready. Jamie smiled at him. “What do you say we make this challenge interesting, Uncle? The loser grants the winner a boon?” Jamie called out.  
Rupert laughed and nodded in agreement. He was a gambling man. He would make his nephew take all his night watch duties for the next year once he flattened him to the ground.

Rupert circled and Jamie followed, feinting and thrusting, in no hurry to clash. Jamie recalled everything he could remember about Rupert’s fighting style. He reminded himself that, sport or not, Rupert would test Jamie’s mettle. Since they were lads, there had always been an unspoken rivalry between them.

Indeed, Rupert’s first attack was a flurry of powerful thrusts which Jamie managed to easily defend. Rupert’s surprised reaction was gratifying, and Jamie allowed himself a moment to celebrate that small victory. He had not sparred with his uncle for some time, but they were well matched, always had been. Now they engaged in full, two-handed swings and arm-numbing blocks, and sweat rolled down Jamie’s face. As he’d anticipated, Rupert made repeated attacks, forcing him to defend fierce blows over and over. Fatigue set in, and Jamie struggled to take the offensive and slow Rupert’s attack. Jamie gritted his teeth and pressed harder.

Rupert’s blows came faster, and with sudden awareness, Jamie saw that his uncle had suddenly changed the rules of the game. No longer were they putting on a show—Rupert was fighting to win, just as Jamie suspected he would. Rupert would not hesitate to strike him with a deadly blow. The spectators must have noted the increase in intensity, for Jamie heard Murtugh call a halt. But neither Jamie nor Rupert complied, and no one was foolish enough to step close to the swinging blades.

Rupert swung hard as Jamie lurched back, stumbling as he misstepped, and Rupert moved in. Jamie regained his footing quickly, but not before Rupert drew blood from Jamie’s thigh. Murtagh’s continued shouts for them to cease echoed around them, but Rupert snarled and continued the fight.

Hamish watched without taking his gaze from Jamie, he pleaded, “Murtagh, do something.”  
“Naught to be done,” he said in a resigned voice. “This has been coming since those two were lads.... Well, one or both of them may not live past the day.”  
“Aye,” Hamish agreed reluctantly.

Jamie’s face showed the strain, yet still he fought well. Rupert, on the other hand, seemed to taunt his adversary and twice left himself wide open. Jamie did not take advantage. Jamie suddenly slipped on the now matted grass, caught himself before he fell, then feinted left. The quickness of the move must have caught Rupert unaware, for Jamie’s next thrust sent Rupert’s sword sailing out of his hand to land several feet away.

It was over. Rupert made a mocking bow to the crowds that surrounded the hills behind him. Jamie met Rupert and began to talk intimately with him as Murtagh approached with his hand on his blade ready to break up another fight between the two. He heard Rupert laugh loudly as he slapped Jamie on the back and Murtagh shook his head and stomped away muttering Gaelic curses and ‘daft lads’.

Claire reluctantly made her way to Colum’s chambers for his morning checkup. To her surprise, he was healing very rapidly; Even the twisted flesh that had had been ripped off his leg didn’t appear as gruesome as it should. She wouldn’t allow him to walk unaided, however. Claire had no reason to believe his broken bones would heal as fast as the skin and muscle surrounding them and Claire insisted he use his crutches every time he tried to jump out of his bed.

“Good morrow, my lass! I’m warnin’ ye... I’m in high spirits today!” Colum greeted her cheerfully.  
Claire noticed the glass of whiskey next to his bed. ‘High spirits, indeed’ she thought to herself. “I’m so pleased... aside from your mood. How do you feel today? Any pains in your leg?” Claire asked.  
“Nay. I’m hale and hearty Mistress Claire! I dinna need any doctorin’ today... I need you and your guard, Fergus, to assist me to the Hall for the noon meal. The games are starting and I must take my place as Laird with my clan.” He informed her. “Now, help me with my ‘crutches’ as ye call them,” Colum said eager to leave his chambers.

Colum was very impressed with Claire. He never thought he could be so fond of a Sassenach, or half-blooded Sassenach. Whatever the lass was, she had Scots in her blood. That was no lie. A Sassenach could never be as beautiful as Claire. A classic beauty, graceful and poised and exquisitely educated like all the Highland nobility with a proud and wilful temperament. She saved his leg and his life. She had fashioned him the ‘crutches’ so he could walk unaided and participate in the ceremonies during the Gathering.

Claire and Fergus oversaw Colum as they made their way to the Great Hall. Colum took his place on the high dais for the noon meal and motioned for Claire be seated next to him.  
“I can’t sit here, it wouldn’t be proper,” she replied humbly.  
“I insist lass! As you can see, my brothers are no’ present. It is traditional for the laird to engage in the sports with his clansmen.” Colum explained. “And wi’ my injury, I am no’ able. Dougal is representing the laird in the field competitions now and I am in need of conversation.”

Claire graciously accepted and took her seat next to Colum with a smile. Jamie stood across the hall near the entrance. She could see from across the room that his eyes never once left her. She felt like her body was on fire under his relentless gaze, but forced herself to focus on Colum. Claire also saw the young blonde girl that asked her for a love potion walking through the hall serving the warriors. The girl was slowly serving her way in Jamie’s direction and Claire felt like she was going to be nauseas.

“I’m pleased you share your company, Mistress Claire,” Colum said, pleasantly.  
“Now.... I must share wi’ you a pleasure of mine. Colum handed her a lovely pale green crystal decanter. Claire filled her glass and took a small sip; the taste was full of promise, and she closed her eyes in bliss.  
“Good, isn’t it?” His deep voice held a note of amusement, and Claire opened her eyes to find Colum smiling in approval.  
“Wonderful,” She replied. Colum nodded.  
“Aye, that it is. Rhenish, ye know. You’re not familiar with it?” Colum asked.  
Claire shook her head as he tipped the decanter over her goblet, filling her glass with the pool of glowing rose.  
“You know good wine, though,” Colum said, tilting the glass to enjoy the rich fruity scent himself. “But that’s natural, I suppose, with your family French. Or half French, I should say,” he corrected himself with a quick smile.  
“Yes, that’s true. In fact, I’d like to be on my way to France as soon as possible.” She said.  
“And what of your betrothal to my nephew?” He inquired and picked up the decanter of wine with a questioning lift of the brow.  
Claire held her glass steady, gesturing at the halfway point to indicate that she only wanted only a little, but he filled the delicate hollow nearly to the rim once more. “Well, there’s no need for Jamie and I to marry in haste. I can visit with my relatives soon and assure them of my safety, and Jamie and I can marry later.” She said warmly.  
“Well, Mistress Beauchamp,” he said, “I think ye must be content to bide here a bit, until suitable arrangements can be made for your transport. No need for haste, after all. It’s only the start of summer, and months before the autumn storms make the Channel crossing chancy.”  
“I thank you, my laird,” Claire replied. She got her answer. The only way to leave the castle would be to escape during the oath ceremony. Claire felt badly about abusing Colum’s hospitality by planning on leaving without a word or a note of farewell, but then again, what could she possibly do? She had no writing paper after all, and she was not willing to take the risk of searching Colum’s quarters.

Jamie stood watching Claire and his Uncle Colum sitting together for the noon meal. Apparently Claire had won herself an admirer. He felt sad and abandoned and not for the first time, jealous. It took every bit of strength he had not to walk over to Claire, gather her in his arms and carry her out of the Great Hall and into his bed chamber. Suddenly, Jamie noticed Laoghaire was hovering nearby flirtatiously and he gave a knowing look to Rupert and abruptly made his exit.

When the noon meal was concluded, Claire excused herself to her surgery. Colum was competent on his crutches, keeping his weight off his injured leg and she was certain there would be other clan members that were in need of a doctor. She hoped there would be nothing more serious than a splinter or scraped knee. The effects of Colum’s wine were quite strong.

As Claire opened the door to her surgery, she heard sounds and thought someone must be already waiting for her. She walked in and immediately froze in shock. Rupert had a nude young blonde woman bent over her patient’s bed. He stood behind her widely spread legs thrusting while she panted and moaned. His plaid and her dress lay strewn across the floor around them. Claire recognized blonde girl as the one that pleaded to her for a potion. Claire wondered if she used the love potion on Rupert and crinkled her nose in disgust. As if hearing her thoughts, Rupert looked up at Claire and she swiftly turned on her heel and ran out of the surgery feeling her face turn beet red. She then bumped into Fergus and nearly knocked him over in her haste.  
“Milady!” He said. “Are you well?”  
“Yes” Claire answered a bit flustered. “I... I saw a mouse in my surgery. It scared me.”  
“I can take care of that for you,” Fergus said confidently as he walked toward the surgery.  
“No!” Claire cried. “Don’t bother Fergus, I’m sure the rodent is gone. I had too much of Colum’s wine and I could use some air. Would you mind giving me a tour of the stables?” Claire asked.  
“Oui, Milady,” Fergus answered obligingly and offered her his arm.  
Claire took a deep breath and calmed herself as they headed to the stables. The sooner she left this castle the better she thought.

There were many visitors throughout the castle grounds. Some has made camp on a fallow field below the stream that fed the castle’s loch. Roving tinkers, gypsies, and sellers of small goods had set up a sort of impromptu fair near the bridge. The inhabitants of both castle and nearby village had begun to visit the spot, to buy tools and bits of finery, watch the jugglers and catch up on the latest gossip. Among the confusion and disturbance of the Gathering, Claire thought as they walked to the stables, she would have no difficulty finding a chance to escape.

As Fergus guided Claire through the stables, they heard some commotion in a back stall. She followed Fergus around the back and froze. There she saw Jamie and the stable master, Alec, tending to a newborn foal. Alec was sitting washing the blood and soap off his hands while he beamed adoringly at the new colt. Claire smiled as she watched Jamie tending to the new arrival, wiping him down with wisps of straw. As if he sensed her presence, Jamie looked up at Claire and their eyes met. Claire thought she saw hint of sadness in his eyes. Feeling her throat tighten and the color rise in her cheeks, Claire quickly left the stables without saying a word as she sought solace in her chambers.

Claire napped off the effects of the wine the rest of the afternoon after looking over the preparations for her journey. She awoke sober in the early evening to her attentive maid Lizzie.  
“Your supper’s here,” said Lizzie, “and I’m preparing hot water for your bath.”  
Claire took her time as she washed and let Lizzie dry her and help her into her chemise. She was tired and soon found herself dozing when she got into bed.

Claire dreamt of the those black eyes. They were staring at her without even one blink. Claire tried to move but was frozen and suddenly she couldn’t breath. Claire tried to struggle, she needed air but could not move her limbs. She chocked and gasped. She felt like she was drowning.

Lizzie woke up terrified as she heard Claire gurgling and gasping. She tried wake Claire but she didn’t move. Lizzie became frightened by the distorted look on Claire’s face. She shook her but Claire continued to gasp. Lizzie shook her harder then in desperation she slapped Claire’s face.  
Claire sat up abruptly still gasping for air.  
“Lizzie... water...” she croaked after a few moments.  
“Yes, Mistress,” Lizzie whispered and jumped off the bed and lit a candle. She handed Claire a cup of water which she could barely hold with her trembling hands.  
“Mistress, are ye well?” Lizzie asked carefully.  
“No, I had a nightmare,” Claire answered in a shaky voice. “I need your help. I have to get out of here! Now!”  
“Do ye mean, right now Mistress?” She asked slowly. Lizzie did not understand. Claire’s entire body was trembling and damp as if she was with a fever. She did not look well.  
“Right now... please!” Claire begged. She got out of bed with her body still shaking in fear. Claire had Lizzie assist her in dressing in her riding habit and boots. She put on a cape and some gloves and then grabbed the pouch that contained the food and water she procured for her journey.  
“Lizzie, thank you for all your help. I have to leave this castle now. You won’t see me again. Do not tell anyone I have left until after the Gathering.” Claire quickly rambled as she finished dressing.  
Without another word, Claire unbolted her chamber door and ran down the halls to exit the keep without looking back.

Claire didn’t get even halfway down the hall before a strong pair of arms grabbed her from behind and stopped her. Claire shrieked in terror. A hand clasped around her mouth as Claire continued to scream and struggle.  
“Claire! Claire! It’s me, Jamie. What the devil are ye doin’ now?” He growled in her ear.  
Claire stopped screaming and her body went limp. She started trembling all over again. “Jamie! Oh Jamie! Thank god it’s you!” She said and started to sob. He let go of her and she turned around and fell into his arms just before everything turned black.

Claire awoke sometime later during the night in Jamie’s chamber. She was stripped of her riding clothes and laying in just her chemise. Jamie was lying next to her lightly massaging her neck and shoulders and whispering soothing words in Gaelic.  
“Jamie...” she whispered. Claire felt his body tense as he moved away from her and the room became silent.  
“Jamie, what were you doing in the hallway?”  
“I might ask the same of you, Claire,” he answered in a deep soft voice. “Though I suppose I could guess,” he added dryly. “How far d’ye think you’d get, lassie, on a dark night and a strange horse, wi’ half the MacKenzie clan after you by morning?”  
“They wouldn’t be after me. They’re all busy with the Gathering.” She whispered.  
“Well, that’s verra sound reasoning on your part,” he said, sounding mildly surprised. “Or would be,” he added, “did Colum not have guards posted all round the castle and scattered through the woods. He’d hardly leave the castle unprotected, and the fighting men of the whole clan inside it.”  
“Oh, I didn’t think of that.” She sighed.  
“And what about me Claire? Did you no’ think of me? You were just going to leave me without word after ye agreed to be my wife?” He asked in a choked voice.  
“I didn’t think about you. It was a rash decision to try to escape this place. You wouldn’t understand,” she said pitifully.  
“Good Christ,” he said savagely, “You didna think of me! The harlots in Edinburgh have better hearts than you! Ye must think I’m a besotted fool!” He got up from the bed and tended to the small fire.  
“How did you know I was leaving? Were you guarding my door all night? I thought I wasn’t your prisoner here,” She snapped back.  
“Aye! I’ve been sleeping on a pallet in the hall. There’s a lot strange faces around the castle and I wanted to see that ye are safe.” He replied coldly as he paced his chambers.  
”I thought Fergus was my ‘personal’ guard!” She said with annoyance.  
”Aye! He is! But I relieved him of the night duty after ye punched me in the face!” He growled back at her.  
“I’m sorry,” Claire simply responded.  
“Well, so ye should be, _Sassenach!_ Remember that you are _English_ in a place where that’s no’ a bonny thing to be,” he said firmly but there was no longer anger in his voice. He turned and looked her in the eye.  
“Do you want to leave, then?” he asked. “Go to find your kin in France? If that’s what you want, I’ll not hinder ye.” He resigned.  
Claire’s eyes misted. “What I want is for you to hold me,” she said as tears rolled down her face. Jamie’s face softened as he sat back down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. “Don’t let me go!” She cried as she pulled him closer.  
“I want you, Claire,” he said, sounding choked. He paused a moment, “I want you so much—I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”  
“Yes, I’ll have you.” Claire replied without hesitation.  
“I’ll not … I can’t … Claire, forgive me if I am not gentle about it.” He warned. Claire nodded once and was quickly pushed back and pinned to the bed. Jamie spread her thighs with his knee and sheathed himself to the root in a single thrust that made her gasp. He made a sound that was almost a groan, and gripped Claire tighter.  
“You’re mine, mo duinne,” he said softly, pressing himself into her depths. “Aye, I want to own you, to possess you, body and soul.”  
Claire felt the jolt of each stroke as her hips rose to welcome it. Jamie moved with her as he felt her response while he continued to keep her pinned under him.  
“Yes!” Claire cried. “Oh God, Jamie, yes!”  
He gripped her hair and forced her head back to meet his eyes, glowing with furious triumph.  
“Aye, Claire,” he muttered. “Ride ye I will!” Together they ravaged each other, clawing each other’s flesh in the desperate desire to be one. Claire’s cry mingled with his as they were lost in each other in that last moment of dissolution and completion.

Claire returned slowly to herself while lying tucked in Jamie’s arm, their naked bodies still glued together. She fell asleep for only a few moments, but when she awoke, she knew her life had changed. Just like her instincts could detect and heal injury in a body, those same instincts knew that she had conceived.  
Jamie felt her stir, and drew her in closer. “I am yours and you are mine, Claire.” He whispered softly.  
“Are you certain you aren’t going to be a father soon Jamie?” She asked.  
“Aye. I ken it and have proof” he said with disgust.  
“Oh, about the blonde girl...” Claire said slowly.  
“Her name is Laoghaire,” Jamie interrupted.  
“ _Laoghaire..._ I saw her again in my surgery. She was with Rupert and they were....” she paused.  
“Aye, I’m sure there are other men as well,” Jamie finished.  
“Why did she use my surgery for her...well, she’s not allowed to use my surgery.. _for that!_ Especially when she visited me a couple days ago asking for a love potion... to... open your heart to her,” Claire informed him.  
“Aye, I kent that as well... she tried to smear horse shite on me... on my _cock.... Claire!_ ”  
Claire was silent and after a few moments she giggled unable to hold it in.  
“You’re a vindictive wee bitch, aren’t ye?” He chuckled.  
“It was either that or give her some maggots. The remedies I found the late Beaton used are revolting! It’s a wonder anyone even lived after being treated by him.” She paused. “Jamie... you don’t suppose she used the potion on Rupert do you?”  
Jamie laughed. “If she did, I dinna think he will care! I hope I never get on your bad side again.” He teased. Jamie then looked at her. “Claire, I cannae open my heart to another because you already have it,” he whispered solemnly.  
“Jamie, my darling … please forgive me. I had no right to accuse you of lying. The past is your affair. Forget I ever asked you. Please.”  
“There is nothing to forgive. You have every right to ask, if you’re to marry me,” he said at last. “And whatever I’ve been, Claire, I never lied in my life. It’s a poor virtue, but the only one I can boast. I shan’t lie now. If a clansmen said I was a cattle thief, he told the truth; and a whoremonger … all these things and more. Can you still love me?”  
“Yes, I can and I do love you Jamie,” she said as she kissed his hand.  
“Since I’ve met you, I have wanted to change myself. I have sworn never to lay a hand on another woman. I want to make myself worthy of ye, Claire. And if we marry, I shall spend the rest of my life trying.”  
Claire looked at him and her eyes started to mist. She kissed him softly then looked at him again. “You never answered my question.” She whispered.  
“I believe I did,” he whispered back and rubbed his nose with hers.  
“No, you didn’t. Are you certain you aren’t going to become a father soon? Here is a hint...” She brought her lips close ear. “It’s a yes or no question.” She whispered.  
Jamie froze. After a moment he grabbed her and pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “Oh Claire! Are ye certain?” His voice full of emotion.  
“Yes, Jamie. I’m most certain I’m pregnant.” Claire’s eyes misted as well.  
Jamie sat up abruptly and got out of bed. “Put your dress on Claire and make yourself decent,” he said as he quickly donned his plaid. He then put on his boots and moved to leave the room.  
“Jamie, what is going on? It’s the middle of the night!” Claire exclaimed.  
“Be ready Claire.” He said as he left his chambers.

Claire got dressed wondering what in the hell he was about and then sat and waited patiently wondering when he would return. She had fallen asleep again when Jamie finally returned to the room. She awoke to see not only Jamie, but Murtagh as well. “What is going on?” She asked bewildered.  
“Claire, we are going to handfast.” He announced. “It’s a informal wedding. I cannae wait another day for you to be my wife. Dinna fash, we will have a ceremony with a proper priest soon.”  
“Alright then” Claire said slowly still confused. Jamie walked over to her and brought her to stand before the fire. Murtagh approached them carrying a small dirk. Jamie held out his right hand, palm up. Murtagh used the point of the blade to score deeply across Jamie’s wrist, leaving a dark line of welling blood. Claire scarcely had a moment to breath before the dirk was drawn across her own wrist. Swiftly, Murtagh pressed Claire’s wrist to Jamie’s and bound the two together with a strip of white linen.  
“Say the words after me.” It was a short bit of Gaelic, two or three sentences. The words meant nothing to Claire, but she repeated them after Jamie. The linen was untied. “My wife,” Jamie whispered and leaned down to kiss her. Without a word, Murtagh left the room and they were alone again.

Claire blotted their wounds and felt almost in shock. “What was it, exactly?” she asked, trying to bind the cloth around her wound.  
“It’s a bit pagan, but it’s customary hereabouts to have a blood vow,” Jamie said. “Most priests have it with the regular marriage service, but you can use it for handfasting” he told Claire as she moved to tend to his wound.  
“And what does handfasting mean?” She asked stupidly.  
“We declare ourselves married in front of a witness with our hands bound. We are married a year and a day and no more. Vows in front of a priest usually take place in that timeline. It’s a custom in Scotland where traveling to a kirk or a proper priest can sometimes take months, especially in the Highlands in unforgiving weather.” He explained.  
“Jamie, What do those words that we spoke mean?”  
“It rhymes, more or less, when you say it in English. It says:  
‘Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, ’til our Life shall be Done.’ ”  
“So we are married now?” Claire looked at him.  
“Mmmphm. Aye, we’re married, right enough. But it’s no legally binding until it’s been consummated.” He said huskily with mischievous look on his face.  
“Let’s go to bed then, husband...” 


	22. The Oath Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Geillis! Not a time traveler! (1965 Geillis was a plot hole being the stones take you 200 years according to author rules-she would’ve had to travel 20 yrs before Claire to meet Claire because of her age? Right? My head hurts thinking about it... I can’t bother with that aspect of the book ... )  
> Jamie makes an oath & gives Claire a pearl necklace!

Jamie awoke mid-morning to the sun streaming through the window and Claire fast asleep in his arms. Her nipples were peaking out from beneath the bed sheet and Jamie lazily leaned down to gently suckle them in his mouth. He’d gotten hard the moment he opened his eyes and looked at her, but was reluctant to wake her as they did not sleep but a couple hours that night. A soft moan escaped her lips and Jamie was once more reminded of his painful aroused state. Claire was a fiery, beautiful wee lass that brought out the most primitive man in him with a fierce need to protect, possess and mate.

Jamie’s pleasant musing were soon interrupted by a most unwelcome pounding on his bedchamber door.  
“Milord! Are you still abed? Milord! I must speak with you!” Fergus cried from the hall.  
Jamie cursed under his breath as he watched Claire slowly awake from her deep slumber. She smiled at him as she opened her eyes and Jamie could not resist taking her in that moment. He moved on top of her spreading her legs wide and settling himself at her center. He felt himself harden to its fullest stretch as he slowly glided his length against Claire’s warm center hoping to rouse her for another tumble in the sheets. 

The pounding on the door continued with Fergus’s muffled cries in the background. Jamie’s temper flared. Giving Claire a quick kiss he leapt out of bed to unbolt his chamber door without putting a stitch of clothing on.  
“God’s wounds!” He exclaimed to a surprised Fergus. Fergus stood there nonplussed as Jamie continued to yell at him in the nude with his arousal on full display. “Can ye no’ see that I’m a marrit man now and I’m enjoying my bed with my _wife!_ What business is so important that ye mean to interrupt?” Jamie demanded angrily.  
“Oui, Milord! I... I was sent to fetch you. Dougal has inquired about your whereabouts all morning,” Fergus said sheepishly with his face flushed in embarrassment.  
“Tell my Uncle I will meet him when I am done seein’ to my wife!” Jamie replied firmly and moved to shut the door.  
“Milord! Wait! There’s a visitor.... in the castle.... Mistress Duncan.... She says you sent for her...” Fergus squeaked.  
“Aye, take her to Lizzie. Claire will greet her soon enough,” Jamie said sharply and slammed the door. He turned back to the bed as Claire was sitting up and getting out of the bed. “Nay” Jamie said firmly and then gave Claire a devilish smile as her eyes widened on perusal of his hard and thick length.  
“O-oh.” Claire said breathlessly, her need palpable as Jamie moved back into bed to once again claim her.

It was almost noon when Jamie walked through the crowded Great Hall in search of Dougal. The hall with busy with MacKenzie clansmen readying themselves for the ceremony.  
“Ach, Jamie! Ye smell of where you’ve been!” Dougal remarked with noticeable irritation at his nephew.  
“I’ve been with my wife!” Jamie answered. “I made up my mind last night to claim Claire as my wife without the benefit of the clergy and handfast. We will post banns and have a ceremony in the Kirk in month. Until then, she is still _my wife_ ,” he warned possessively.  
Dougal smirked at him. “Jamie... ye are carrying about like a besotted fool! God forgive ye, where’s your pride and your sense of what’s proper?”  
Jamie ignored the insult, “My heart is bestowed.” He stared at Dougal coldly.  
“Be that as it may, ye have obligations to your clan! Alec needs ye in the stables, and ye are needed in the fields with the men as well. You ken Colum cannae walk verra well on his own! I have to see to his duties, and you need to see to mine! Dinnae think to neglect your obligations and dinna come late to the oath-taking,” Dougal warned and abruptly walked off before Jamie could respond.

With the impending ceremony, the castle was in a flurry. It would be a formal affair, and Lizzie was making last minute adjustments to Claire’s pale pink satin dress. Lizzie had worked many weeks on the exquisite embroidery and the pale pink color of the dress contrasted elegantly against Claire’s deeply brown hair and porcelain skin.

Claire opened the door to her bed chambers to see Lizzie still at work and a pretty red headed woman sitting at the table enjoying her noon meal. There were two other servants in the room as well with a large trunk placed in the center of the room.  
“Claire, this is Geillis Duncan, she brought some things from her shop for ye,” Lizzie explained.  
“Nice to meet you Mistress Duncan,” Claire said with a smile and small curtesy.  
“And ye as well, Mistress Beauchamp. And please... Ye may call me Geillis.” The pretty redhead replied.  
“Thank you Geillis, and please, call me Claire as well.”  
“I’ve heard much about ye Claire... and about ye and that wee red fox Jamie Fraser. I’ve kent Jamie for many years. Since we were bairn!” She said smiling.  
“Oh?” She asked raising an eyebrow. Claire hoped Geillis wasn’t another one of Jamie’s past lovers. She smiled at the woman while suppressing a groan. “Perhaps you can share some.... childhood memories?”  
“Och aye.... but we’ll save dull conversation for later. Yer wee fox had me bring all my finest wares for ye. Ye may have anything ye need. I ken ye were robbed. In my trunk I have jewelry, ribbons, laces, gloves, hats, stockings, slippers.... all ye may need for the festivities. I sell only the finest in my shop in the village... and Jamie has paid me to see that ye are well enough taken care of” She said cheerfully as she motioned for her servants to open the trunk to show Claire all she had brought her.  
“That is lovely,” Claire replied. “Lizzie, perhaps you can look through and select what I may need. No sense in accepting things I may not be able to use. Lizzie?”  
Lizzie hurried over and diligently began to examine items from the trunk.  
“That was easy enough,” Claire remarked.  
Geillis laughed. “So bits of ribbon and trinkets dunno interest ye so much? Most lasses would spend the entire afternoon fawning over a wee scrap of lace” Geillis said questioningly.  
Claire shrugged. Lace? Ribbons? She thought of her days as a combat nurse in WW2 when everything from food to clothing was rationed. Perhaps she should be more excited for frivolity, but she wasn’t. Jamie’s thoughtfulness wasn’t lost on her though. She would have to do something special just for him... later.  
“Perhaps we can take a stroll, it’s a lovely day,” Claire remarked. “While I don’t care for admiring scraps of lace all day, I never tire of the gardens.”  
“That is something we have in common Claire! To the gardens!” She announced. Geillis had a carefree way about her that reminded Claire very much of her friend Mary Hawkins.

Together, Claire and Geillis left the castle with Fergus trailing behind. They wandered through the gardens appreciating the fine summer day. They soon trailed past the gardens to the more heavily wooded area.  
“Those kind are poison,” Geillis said to Claire as she looked the patch of Ascarid growing under a lump of pine.  
“Thank you for the warning,” Claire replied. “But I know those mushrooms are poisonous.”  
“Och, ye know? And who is it you’re planning to do away with, then?” Geillis asked. Her smile was infectious, and Claire smiled back. Claire then explained that though the raw mushroom caps were indeed poisonous, but one could prepare a powdered preparation from the dried fungi that was very efficacious in stopping bleeding when applied topically.  
“Fancy that!” Geillis said, still smiling. “And did ye know that these”—she stooped and came up with a handful of tiny blue flowers with heart-shaped leaves—“ will start the bleeding?”  
“No,” Claire said, startled. “Why would anyone want to start bleeding?”  
Geillis looked at Claire with an expression of exasperated patience. “To get rid of a bairn ye dinnae want, I mean. It brings on your flux, but only if ye use it early. Too late, and it can kill ye as well as the bairn.”  
“You seem to know a lot about it,” Claire remarked, stung by having appeared stupid.  
“A bit. The girls in the village come to me now and again for such things, and sometimes the marrit women too.” Geillis replied. “Some people say I’m a witch. I make potions and other charms for young lassies. It brings a good bit of extra coin. That wee fox of yours... he’s had more than a few love-philtres bought on his behalf.” Geillis informed her.  
“Well, I suppose there are a lot of superstitious girls. A _lassie_ who is in love with _my_ Jamie requested a love potion from me as well,” Claire replied.  
“Really? And what did ye give her? Thyme oil? Rosemary?” Geillis asked.  
“I gave her a vial of dried Dung of Horses... I found it among the remedies of the late Beaton.” Claire said matter of fact.  
Geillis looked at her with wide eyes. After a moment she burst into laughter. “Oh my, Claire. I do believe we are in danger of becoming good friends” she managed to say through her giggles. Claire couldn’t help but laugh too.  
“Jamie was so angry with me after the lass tried to use the potion on him!” Claire told her through giggles. Geillis continued laughing with tears forming in her eyes.  
“Well then, what d’ye think? Does he look as nice out of his sark as he does in it?” She asked.  
“Um …” Claire groped for an answer as her face turned red.  
“I think most lasses in the castle would like to tear yer hair out by the roots—I’d be careful what I ate, if I were you,” Geillis said.  
“What I eat?” Claire said in bafflement.  
“Poison,” she hissed dramatically.  
“Nonsense,” Claire said, rather coldly, drawing away from her. “No one would want to poison me simply because I … well, because …”  
“Ha,” Geillis said cynically. “I ken look of a lass that’s been well bedded. And so do other lasses! Yer wee fox-cub..... he could cup a good-sized marrow in those hands of his. Or a good-sized arse, hm?” she added, nudging Claire once more.  
“Geillis, please! Someone might hear you! If you must know, we handfasted... but nobody knows yet!” Claire hissed, face flaming. “And yes! He _does_ look nice without his sark... and without his kilt! Better, in fact!” Claire added daringly.  
“Aye Claire! Just having a wee bit of fun.” she replied chuckling. “Let me show ye a bonny place I love to visit.” She said changing the subject.

Geillis led Claire well up into the foothills, an hour’s walk from the keep, and she stopped near a small brook, overhung by willows. She gathered summer plants, together with the ripening berries of early summer and the thick yellow shelf fungus that sprouted from the trunks of trees in the small shady glens.  
“I need to collect more in preparation” Geillis commented absentmindedly.  
“What exactly is it you’re planning to do, Geilie?” Claire asked, examining the preparations suspiciously. Off-hand, she couldn’t see much intent in some herbs and berries.  
“Summoning,” she said, tugging the corners her kilt to hold all her pickings.  
“Summoning whom?” Claire asked. _‘Or what.’_ She thought.  
“Oh, ghosts, spirits, visions. Anything ye might have need of,” Geillis said. “It starts the same in any case, but the herbs and the words are different for each thing.”  
“So it isn’t a rumor, then, is it?” Claire said, smiling. “You really are a witch.” She wondered just how far it went, and whether she believed it herself, or whether these Scottish people were just very superstitious.  
“That, my friend... is debatable,” she said smiling back.  
“We should make our way back. I need to dress for the ceremony.... and so do you!” Claire said.  
“Aye, I’ve gathered enough for today. We should make our way back now. There is one more place I must show ye,” Geillis said walking swiftly back in the direction of the the keep.

When they reached Leoch, Geillis guided Claire through the impromptu fair on the crowded castle grounds. They walked through the crowds of visitors in a festive mood from all the celebrations. They walked past the tents of town merchants pedaling their wares to a small area of tents set back in a clearing in the woods.  
“There’s someone who has been asking about ye,” Geillis informed Claire.  
Claire suddenly stiffened. She was not from this time, nor did she know anyone save... the people she knew! Claire stopped walking and suddenly felt frightened. In her mind she saw black eyes.  
“What is it Claire? Come along now! Ye need to meet another gypsy. He is like me... except, older! He’s been asking for the keep’s healer!” Geillis said tugging her arm.

Somehow the description Geillis gave set Claire’s mind at ease and she no longer believed an evil dragoon was lying patiently in wait for her. They approached a simple tent with a cart and a horse next to it. Claire felt nervous, but Geillis continued to lead her forward. “C’mon now Claire! He’s been asking for a healer!”  
Geillis continued forward grasping Claire’s wrist and they entered the tent.  
“Monsieur Raymond?” Geillis called out.  
An elderly man in the back of the tent turned around and stepped forward. He had long silver hair pulled back in a leather thong. Hearing the women’s arrival, he straightened up and turned to greet them with a pleasant smile. He was a handsome man, although he had a slight build. He stood no more than 5 feet tall, but had a slender muscular build and supple skin even with the lines of age. Claire guessed he could be 50 or 80 years old. She simply could not tell.

“I have brought you the clan healer Monsieur Raymond, as I promised!” Geillis stated as she pushed Claire forward.  
“Madonna!” he said, beaming expansively. “I have been throughout Highlands for many weeks in search of you!” He exclaimed.  
“Madonna?” Claire said, peering down at him questioningly.  
“Oui! Madonna! For there can be no other healer in the Highlands such as you!” He said.  
Claire suddenly felt lightheaded. Monsieur Raymond looked upon her as if he knew her. _‘How could he possibly know me? I’ve traveled back in time? I don’t know anyone’_ Claire thought and suddenly wanted to run back to the castle.  
Sensing her anxiety, he took her hand and led her and Geillis gently to some chairs. He procured a few goblets and filled them with wine and handed them to the women. Claire her a low growl to her right and gasped at the site of a large white wolf in the tent.  
“Ahhhh!” She cried jumping up out of her chair frightened. “Jesus H. Christ! That’s a bloody wolf...”  
Monsieur Raymond soothed the dog by whispering something she couldn’t quite hear in French and the beast took to his bed in the back of the tent. Claire and Geillis both watched his mastery of the wolf in awe.  
“Have no fear... his name is Neige and he will not harm you. He can be protective around strangers. Now, madonna... Since we are to be friends, perhaps you will give me a few moments to explain my presence here?” He asked.  
Claire looked at Geillis who gave her a firm nod. After taking a big swig of her wine, Claire nodded and relaxed once again.  
“I will listen to what you have to say to me.” She acquiesced.  
“Much like you, I’m a healer.” He said with a sigh. “Not fortune-telling, no love philtres.”  
Claire felt a twinge. “I’m part of your clan Madonna. It is in our blood. The healing. Your kin, Espy Thomson is my wife you see” he continued.  
Claire gasped. “Thomson!” She exclaimed. “Where is she? I must speak with her!”  
Monsieur Raymond smiled. “She wishes to speak with you as well. We did not think another Thomson lived in this era, but Espy has had many visions of you. I must bring you back to France with me at once... to Espy. You are in grave danger here.” He said.  
“Wait... go to France? Now?” Claire asked bewildered.  
“Oui! Once I pack up this tent, we may be on our way,” he said.  
“I cannot leave now!” Claire exclaimed. “I’m going to be married. I’m already handfasted, so I suppose I already _am_ married!”  
“Madonna, you cannot stay. The danger is close. I’m afraid we have to go to France now... there is no other way,” he said sadly.  
“No other way?” Claire repeated incredulously. “I don’t have to go to France... _now_! I met you just a few moments ago and you ask me to leave with you? My husband protects me. I need answers about my clan, but... I can’t just leave now. I’m sorry,” Claire said as she stood and started to exit the tent.  
“I am here for you Mademoiselle! I shall be close! The danger is not far. When you need me, I will be here. I cannot return to France without you. When you are ready, I will be waiting!” He called out solemnly.

Claire felt her blood run cold as she quickly left the tent and ran back to the castle. Geillis was running close behind.  
“Claire! Claire! Wait for me,” she yelled.  
Claire stopped and Geillis caught up to her panting.  
“What the hell was that, Geillis!” Claire screamed at her. She thought she was making a new friend with the pretty Scottish redhead, but that felt like a trap!  
“I dinna ken Claire! I swear it! He was askin’ about a healer! It was harmless enough! I swear I dinna ken he would talk of France or your kin!” she said with a pleading look in her eye.  
“Alright then,” Claire resigned. Geillis did not appear to be lying an seemed truly upset over the situation. “We need to get ready for the ceremony.” Claire resigned. She did not want to be angry with Geillis.  
“Aye, that we do,” she replied with visible relief. The last thing Geillis wanted was a stramash with Claire.

The gallery of the Great Hall was lit by pine torches, brilliant flares that rose straight up in their sockets. As Claire walked in, she noticed faces turned, blinking, to look at her as she came out of the hangings at the back of the gallery. As she took in her surroundings, it seemed all the women of the castle were up here. Claire wore the exquisitely embroidered pink silk dress with her hair carefully styled by Lizzie. Her betrothal gift, the emerald and diamond necklace, adorned her neck magnificently and her upswept hair gave the matching pendant earrings its due. She knew many eyes were scrutinizing her this night. Claire slowly moved front, where she could see the whole Hall spread out beneath.

The walls were decked with myrtle branches, yew and holly, and the fragrance of the evergreens rose up into the gallery, mingled with the smoke of fires and the harsh reek of men. There were dozens of them, coming, going, standing talking in small groups scattered throughout the hall, and all clad in tartan, be it only a plaid or a tartan bonnet worn above ordinary working shirt and breeches. The patterns and colors varied wildly—the noble and wealthier men in brighter, more colorful expensive weaves. Highlanders certainly were peacocks. 

Claire immediately saw Jamie below standing near a wall looking grim. Most of the men were completely dressed as Jamie now was, kilt, plaid, bonnet, and—in most cases—badges. The confusion in the hall was gradually becoming organized, as the castle residents pushed and led the newcomers into place at the lower end.

Tonight was plainly special and soon the hall was filled with the fierce drone of pipe music. The women surrounding Claire were fully appreciative, and there were many murmurs of admiration as they hung over the rail, pointing out one man or another, striding about the Hall decked in his finery. One girl spotted Jamie, and with a muffled exclamation, beckoned her friends to see. There was considerable whispering and murmuring over his appearance. Some of it was admiration for his fine looks, but more was speculation about his presence at the oath-taking. Claire noticed that Laoghaire, in particular, glowed like a candle as she watched him, and she felt sickened at the thought that she was once Jamie’s lover. She wondered how many of these other girls had shared Jamie’s bed as well.

The pipe music rose to a fervent pitch, and then abruptly ceased. In the dead silence of the Hall, Colum MacKenzie stepped out from the upper archway, and strode purposefully with the aid of his crutches to a small platform that had been erected at the head of the room. He made no effort to hide his injury, nor did not flaunt it now either. He was splendid in an azure-blue coat, heavily laced with gold, buttoned with silver, and with rose silk cuffs that turned back almost to the elbow. A tartan kilt in fine wool hung past his knees, covering most of his legs and the checked stockings on them. His bonnet was blue, but the silver badge held plumes, not holly. The entire Hall held its breath as he took center stage. Whatever else he was, Colum MacKenzie was a showman.

He turned to face the assembled clansmen, raised his arms and greeted them with a ringing shout. “Tulach Ard!”  
“Tulach Ard!” the clansmen gave back in a roar. The woman next to Claire shivered. There was a short speech next, given in Gaelic. This was greeted with periodic roars of approval, and then the oath-taking proper commenced. Dougal MacKenzie was the first man to advance to Colum’s platform. The small rostrum gave Colum enough height that the brothers met face to face. Dougal was richly dressed, but in plain chestnut velvet with no gold lace, so as not to distract attention from Colum’s magnificence.

Dougal drew his dirk with a flourish and sank to one knee, holding the dirk upright by the blade. His voice was less powerful than Colum’s, but loud enough so that every word rang through the hall. “I swear by the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by the holy iron that I hold, to give you my fealty and pledge you my loyalty to the name of the clan MacKenzie. If ever my hand shall be raised against ye in rebellion, I ask that this holy iron shall pierce my heart.” He lowered the dirk, kissed it at the juncture of haft and tang, and thrust it home in its sheath. Still kneeling, he offered both hands clasped to Colum, who took them between his own and lifted them to his lips in acceptance of the oath so offered. Then he raised Dougal to his feet.

Turning, Colum picked up a silver quaich from its place on the tartan-covered table behind him. He lifted the heavy eared cup with both hands, drank from it, and offered it to Dougal. Dougal took a healthy swallow and handed back the cup. Then, with a final bow to the laird of the clan MacKenzie, he stepped to one side, to make room for the next man in line.

This same process was repeated over and over, from vow to ceremonial drink. Viewing the number of men in the line, Claire was impressed anew at Colum’s capacity. She was trying to work out how many pints of spirit he would have consumed by the end of the evening, given one swallow per oath-taker, when she saw Jamie approach the head of the line.  
Jamie went gracefully to one knee and bowed deeply before Colum. Drawing his dirk, he gave his oath holding it upright... then he lowered the dirk, kissed it. 

Claire glanced at the girl Laoghaire who had gone pale when he gave the oath. Every eye in the hall was on Jamie, but he spoke as though to Colum alone. His voice was as deep as Colum’s, and every word was clearly audible. Jamie was now a MacKenzie.

Colum stood unmoving for a moment, then smiled and held out his hands. Colum drank from the quaich and offered it to Jamie. He accepted it with a smile. Even before Jamie finished, Colum was making an announcement. As if in a dream, Claire heard her name being called to the center of the hall. The women quickly pushed her in direction of the stairs and she slowly moved through the crowd and approached Jamie and Colum as if in a dream. The heat in the gallery was stifling, and the rising smoke was making her head ache even before the oath-taking, and Claire prepared herself with what she assumed would be a few stirring words by Colum.

With the whole of his clan as witness, Colum then announced the betrothal of his nephew Jamie Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie to Claire Elizabeth Thomson Beauchamp. Claire was to be his half Scottish, half French niece, which he conveyed to his clan by just the pronunciation of her name alone. There was an uproar at this, and Jamie proudly made his way toward the archway, much impeded by congratulatory handshakes and thumps on the back as he passed. He met Claire at the center of the room and gave her a passionate kiss before all. Apparently Colum MacKenzie was not only the member of the family with a knack for good theater as well.

“Buidheachas, mo caraid.” Jamie bowed gracefully to the latest toaster, and sat down amid the increasingly sporadic applause. Jamie handed Claire a glass of wine.  
“Not quite so good as Colum’s private stock,” he said with a smile, “but none so bad, either.” He raised his glass briefly before making another toast to his betrothed. For the rest of the evening, Claire stayed by Jamie’s side while various toasts were made in their honor.  
“Claire, I have never seen you look more beautiful as ye do tonight,” Jamie whispered in her ear. Claire smiled to herself. She would have to remember to reward Lizzie for her hard work on her dress.

The evening continued on… ‘ _ah, Laoghaire,’_ Claire spied her in their midst. Pale-skinned, blue-eyed, and just the tiniest bit plump. Claire repressed feeling guilt over the uncharitable observation. Claire noticed the girl carefully avoided looking at either herself or Jamie, chattering animatedly and laughing with her friends at one of the lower tables. _‘That’s the end of that’_ Claire thought to herself. Now their engagement was known with his clan and well received.

Rupert wandered the Great Hall in search of amusement. He was very drunk and very bored. He had discovered Colum’s secret stash of Rhenish months ago and felt no remorse in indulging in a celebratory bottle... or two. He spied the kitchen wench in the hall with her friends. He walked over to her and took her by the arm.  
“Come wi’ me” he said circling his arm around her waist.  
Laoghaire giggled as she followed Rupert out of the Great Hall into the shadowy castle hallways.  
“Milord! Where are we going, for there is such fun here tonight!” Laoghaire asked.  
He stopped in a window alcove and offered her some Rhenish.  
“It’s Colum’s finest” he informed her, and filled her a goblet of it. “Have a drink!” He offered. “It’ll put ye in a better mood and take the sting out of Jamie’s betrothal.” He said gruffly. Rupert wasn’t prone to sensitivity, but like himself, he knew the kitchen wench was no’ celebrating the impending wedding. Rupert still hated the _Sassenach_ and was suprised at the announcement. His nephew was a fool!  
Laoghaire frowned at the mention of Jamie and slowly sipped the wine which was very good. A smile appeared on her face.  
“Verra good, is it no’ lass?” Rupert said. “Colum would have my head if he kent I shared his wine wi’ a kitchen wench!” He said with a laugh.  
Laoghaire ignored the insult and finished her glass of wine. Rupert poured her another and he took her wrist and they walked through the castle. She wasn’t sure their destination, but she made no objection to Rupert’s whims. She spent weeks sleeping in his bedchambers and he did not touch her. Then, their last afternoon together, Rupert finally showed her that he was in love with her too... Just like James.

It was through the dark hallways that they ran into the MacKenzie of Keppoch, the younger son of Alexander MacKenzie, 17th of Keppoch who was head and chieftain of the clan and cousin to Colum MacKenzie himself. The young lord was no more than ten and six summers, and Rupert filled his goblet with Rhenish as he was feeling expansive and generous under the effects of the fine wine.  
“This is the finest wine I’ve ever tasted!” Exclaimed the young MacKenzie.  
“Aye, this wine is Colum’s secret... and most prized treasure!” Rupert laughed. “Come along lad, this bottle is almost empty. I shall show ye where we can find plenty more!” Rupert led his companions to a small private library where under a cabinet Colum stashed his finest wine. Rupert grabbed another bottle.  
“To the MacKenzie Clan!” he exclaimed as he refilled their goblets.  
They all quickly drank their glasses and soon Rupert once again felt the growing restlessness and boredom. As the young MacKenzie flirted with drunken Laoghaire, Rupert grabbed the newly opened bottle wine and left the room in search of better company. Tomorrow, he would go to Edinburgh. 

Rupert walked drunkenly through the keep while drinking the wine until he reached the Great Hall. He was finishing the bottle of Rhenish when Dougal approached him.  
“Where did you get this wine!” Dougal demanded.  
“You only have to know where to look...” Rupert replied drunkenly laughing.  
Rupert tried to move past him, but Dougal pushed him back. “The wine?” He growled.  
“And what price are ye willing to pay for the wine’s location?” Rupert teased. Dougal growled again and punched him in the arm with a look of warning.  
“Och! Just go to Colum’s small library and look past the cabinet, there are far too many bottles to count... nobody will ken a what’s missing.... _brother_ ,” and then moved past Dougal.

Dougal smiled as Rupert walked away. He casually walked to the library with the intent of stealing a few bottles of his Laird’s prized stash. He entered the library and knew immediately he was not alone. The sounds of heaving breathing drew his eyes to a chaise longue. There, was the young MacKenzie of Keppoch was lying beneath one of their kitchen wenches. Her heavy bosom was exposed and heaving as she rode the young lord. _‘God’s Teeth!’_ Dougal thought. _‘The keep is full of whores!’_ Shaking his head he found Colum’s wine and took bottle for himself without interrupting the couple in the room.

It was very late during the night that Jamie found himself alone with Claire once more. After many toasts, she retired to her room while Jamie continued to celebrate with the men. Jamie entered his bed chamber quietly to see Claire sleeping peacefully in wait of him. His heart swelled not just for her but for the tiny wee bairn she carried for them. Jamie quickly undressed and joined Claire in bed. When he moved next to her, Claire awoke. “mo duinne” he whispered.  
Claire roused from her sleep and slowly pushed him down on the bed.  
“I love you,” she whispered as she started to plant small kisses across his chest. Jamie grabbed for her.... but Claire pushed him down with force. “No,” she whispered. “I want to show my husband how much I appreciate him.”  
She continued to kiss him as she moved lower and lower.... until finally, she held his arousal in her hand. Without a word she licked his tip with her tongue. Jamie let out a groan that encouraged Claire to continue. She took him into her mouth gently and suckled him like he did to her so many times. She used her hand to grip the base of his length while she continued her sensual assault on him with her mouth. 

Jamie moaned even though felt the slightest bit of guilt. He would not last long, he was about to explode. Without a word, he pulled himself from Claire’s mouth and released himself on her neck and chest.  
“Jamie! Why did you pull back?” Claire asked.  
“Forgive me my sweeting, but I did not want to scare you. You felt too good, I couldna hold back,” he said softly.  
“But I wanted to taste you,” Claire whispered as she licked a drop of cum from his cock.  
Jamie groaned as he looked at Claire. She looked so beautiful and he wanted her again but he knew she needed rest. He moved from the bed to find a linen to clean himself from his lady.  
Claire looked down at her chest and laughed as Jamie wiped away his seed.  
“Why Jamie, it looks like I’m wearing a necklace of pearls” she said teasingly.  
“Aye” he agreed. “But they are Scottish pearls.” He replied deviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pearl necklace inspirarion is from a outlander interview clip I saw online- the interviewer asked Sam “what’s the most romantic thing Claire did for Jamie ?” Sam responded “ she gives him a child”  
> Then the question “what does Jamie give to Claire?” Sam Replies “Jamie gives Claire a pearl necklace” - then he choked & they continued on with the silly interview. I wondered if anyone got the reference? Anyway that’s where my Scottish pearls come from! Lol


	23. The Wedding Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire reflects on her current situation. Jamie gives Claire another gift.  
> 

Claire woke up just before dawn in a sweat. She was having another nightmare, although she could not remember the dream. She felt nauseas and got up out of bed to go to the small drawer where Jamie kept snacks for her. She grabbed a semi-stale bannock and went to sit by the window to watch the sunrise. She rarely got moments to herself. The past month she had kept busy between the patients that visited her surgery and helping Mrs. FitzGibbons and other women tending to the keep’s gardens. The weather was too nice to be cooped up in the surgery all day. Plus, she did not have many patients each day. She knew that some of the Clan still refused her care and the ones that did seek her for healing looked at her as if she were a witch rather than a doctor. All her life Claire knew she had a keen sense. She’d been ten or twelve years old before she realized other people didn’t have it, sometimes not even a particle of it. Through training as a nurse, she learned she could use that ‘sense’ to help heal the sick and injured. She had performed live saving ‘miracles’ on a regular basis simply by healing injuries that were impossible to detect. She was also never sick a day in her life. It was almost as if she was immune to catching a cold, the flu or anything else. Didn’t make her a witch? Didn’t she time warp into another century? _Didn’t she kill a man?_ Claire tried to push that particular memory from her mind.

 _Two months have past since I have arrived here!_ She glanced at her sleeping husband. Had it really been almost a month since they handfasted? In a couple days time they would attend an engagement ball hosted by Jamie’s father at Broch Tuarach. Their wedding date was set for July 26, 1744—just one month after their engagement party.  
Claire couldn’t help but feel underlying trepidation about her situation. There was a small voice in her head that relentlessly insisted all would not be well. And all she could hope for was to tell someone, to unburden, as everybody else did, through talk. That’s exactly what Claire wanted. She wanted to tell Jamie the entire truth.  
Only once before—years ago—had this desire to confide nearly overcome her. In fact, she had almost told her Uncle Lamb the entire story, and there were times since when she wished that she had done just that. It was just after the chief surgeon had died of apoplexy at Pembroke Hospital. As a doctor she knew sometimes “awful things” happened, but she couldn’t shake the guilt that she was indeed responsible. _You killed him._ Since that time, she found absolution for murder came only when she saved a life. The hospital became her church and she was at the altar of God when the nurses held out the sterile gown for her, when they held up the sterile gloves. 

She thought of Frank, her doctor, her rescuer, and then... her husband. What was he thinking of her now? Perhaps he thought she ran off with another man? Or perhaps he thought she was ill again? He aided in her release from the psychiatric hospital and saw to her care after. Her nightmares and nocturnal fits—that she never seemed to remember—had all but disappeared when she was released and she no longer unknowingly inflicted harm upon herself. She was cured, or so it seemed. Frank was a constant companion that saw to her wellbeing. She never told Frank about her diagnostic sense or her premonitions. After they married, Frank had disappeared from her life—the war effort came first. He did not visit her once during those years. Frank never really knew her at all.

Claire looked down at Frank’s ring that still adorned her finger. She simply _could not_ take the damn ring off! She tried everything from oil to soap to aid with the removal, but that only caused her finger to swell more. Claire sighed and gazed again at Jamie. He was a man she had needed as well, her rescuer. Just like Frank, Jamie had come into Claire’s life at a time when she was in desperate situation. How she arrived in this time warp... she did not know. But her panic had gotten her locked up once again... only not in a psychiatric hospital but in a Scottish Laird’s tower. Claire frowned over the similarities between her time in the 20th century and now in the 18th century. And what would have happened if she had refused Jamie’s proposal? Would she still be a guest in the castle? Or would she have remained a prisoner? She felt uneasy knowing that her safety... her wellbeing... _her life_... was entirely dependent upon Jamie. What would he think of her if he knew the truth?

Claire tried to shake off the dark thoughts—No, Jamie would never allow her to be harmed, with or without marriage. That special sense of hers told her he was a man of only good intentions. Their love was real. She thought of all the mornings she awoke to Jamie’s head resting on her belly while he whispered in Geilic to their unborn child. It was too late for regrets anyhow—she had a very real child developing inside her. Just thinking of her unborn baby raised new fears—women died in this century giving birth. She had no access to modern medicine, antibiotics... what if... she got an infection? Would she be able to heal herself?

Claire shuddered. There was still the matter of her relative Espy Thomson. Claire had to see her! But how? Claire needed answers as to how she ended up here... and why? What did Jonathan Randall want with her... the same ancestor Frank had been obsessed with learning about on their honeymoon in Scotland. This was no coincidence, and her own ancestor Espy Thomson was the only person with answers....  
All her life, Claire had wondered about the lives of her parents. And the tragic thing was, maybe nobody could ever tell her what had really occurred with her mother.  
Perhaps she could convince Jamie to honeymoon in France. She had to meet with Espy soon not just for her sake but also for her unborn child. She would feel much safer knowing her family in this century... without Jamie, she was certain she would find no safety among his clan. With her mind still deep in thoughts, the sun slowly rose.

Jamie opened his eyes slowly with the new day and spied Claire at the window with a faraway look in her eyes. He sat up slowly, but Claire did not notice. He wondered what she was musing over and why there was a slight frown on her face. Claire was a woman of wonder and mystery to him. She had an unusual manner of speech and Jamie could not help but feel that there were layers to Claire that he did not yet ken.  
There were parts of herself that she did not reveal—That were locked away from him—Making Jamie lonely, jealous and possessive. He wanted Claire’s body, heart and soul. He also felt an apprehension that at any moment she could be taken away. He feared that one day he would suddenly wake up to find that Claire had gone or worse—She never even existed. But he knew his feelings were unworthy and he suppressed them. And after all, there was little time for worry, for the wedding claimed the time and attentions of everyone from the Chief himself down to the humble crofters who began weaving and embroidering gifts for the bride.

Jame quietly walked to the window and slowly put his arms around Claire.  
“Good morrow, Sorcha,” he whispered in her ear. “What are ye thinking about? You look like you’re lost...” 

Claire’s expression changed. Her frown was gone and instantly replaced with a soft smile. _You have no idea how right you are!_ She turned slowly to look at Jamie. “I was just thinking it might be nice to take a trip to France... together... After we are married for our honeymoon. What do you think?” 

Jamie smiled back. “I am you’re servant Mistress Fraser. I will take ye to France.” He replied and then gathered her in his arms as he lowered his lips upon hers. He challenged her with his kiss, wordlessly demanding that she acknowledge the tension and heat that existed between them—a heat that was capable of incinerating a tender heart or welding two hearts into one.

Claire shuttered as desire ran through her and she softly moaned. Her mouth yielded as she was helpless to resist yet somehow this realization made her confused and afraid. She slowly withdrew from Jamie and looked him in the eyes.

Jamie felt Claire gently pull away. He saw confusion when he looked into her shining green eyes. He sighed and hesitated for a moment, then walked across the room to retrieve a small package which he then put in Claire’s hands.  
“What is this for?” She asked surprised.  
“It’s a wee gift for you, my love.”  
Claire carefully tore away the wrapping, revealing a wide silver band, decorated in the Highland interlace style, a small and delicate Jacobean thistle bloom carved in the center of each link.  
“It’s … beautiful,” She said.  
“Will ye wear it, Claire?” He asked tenderly.  
“The wedding is no’ for another month, but we are handfasted and I couldna wait to get you a wedding ring.”  
“Of course I’ll wear it Jamie!” Claire smiled as Jamie gently slipped the ring on her right ring finger. 

Claire admired Jamie’s ring. She then glanced at her left hand that was still adorned by Frank’s ring and felt a twinge of guilt. _Two wedding rings! It was ridiculous!_ She looked up at Jamie. He made no mention of the other ring she wore and she did not tell him she was unable to remove it from her finger. Perhaps if she found some grease in the kitchen, she could finally get Frank’s ring off without damaging her finger. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t take the ring off.  
Claire looked up at Jamie, “I love you,” she whispered.  
“I love you, Mo nighean dubh,” he replied.


	24. The Engagement Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie’s father hosts an engagement party. The MacKenzies are invited.

The Earl of Broch Tuarach gave a ball for his son Jamie and his bride, to which the Laird MacKenzie of Leoch and his family and all the families in the county were invited.

The Great Hall had been transformed; its walls were hung with tapestries, and hundreds of candles burnt in the great bronze chandeliers that hung from the vaulted roof. There were more lights burning in tall sconces, and the Earl’s piper played in the gallery above the guests. The huge library had been turned into a supper-room, one wall lined by tables on which every variety of meat and game and great quantities of fish were arranged, while servants waited to serve food and wine. It was the most brilliant party of the local noble families that had been gathered at Broch Tuarach in almost thirty years.

The last time had been before the Rising of 1715, when the Earl’s mother had entertained her cousins from France and given a reception for them. Few who were present then had met again after the Rebellion was crushed by the English forces and the King in exile had been once more driven from Scotland. Many had had lost their fortunes and estates and fled the country. And now, nearly thirty years after, when a new German king, George II, sat on the throne of England and many of the veterans of the ’15 were exiled in poverty in Rome where the unhappy James Stuart lived on the bounty of the Pope, the talk had begun again, and it was once again of rebellion and war.

James II of England was the last Catholic King of that unyielding Protestant country, whom they had driven out and replaced by members of his own family who were of the right _persuasion._ But James II had a son—the Old Pretender, James Stuart—and it was for this son that the old Earl, Brian’s father, had lost his head. Although James Stuart had retired, refusing more blood should be shed for him, he also had a young heir—Prince Charles Edward. Although his heir was a youth of twenty-four, he was already a veteran of the European war and a man of valour and spirit. The old Jacobites drank to the King across the seas, giving the forbidden toast by passing the wineglass over a cup of water, but now the young men were talking of the Prince. They were tired of laws which originated in England, publicized in Edinburgh and enforced by Lowlanders or traitors who had purchased the lands of the loyalists in their absence.

Highland chiefs were bored and their young sons were restless, drawn by the idea of a man as young as themselves who spoke and wrote with passion of his native Scotland and of his wish to return there if it were only to die among his own in battle.

There was talk and there was uneasiness because something was going to happen soon, though no one among them all seemed to know where or when it would be. But there was no shadow over the happiness of Claire and James that night. War was not in Jamie’s heart that night, even though he had been raised on his father’s tales of blood and vengeance. War was far Claire’s thoughts as she danced with him, so flushed and radiant with happiness that her beauty surpassed itself and drew all eyes on them both. Among those who watched were the Laird of Leoch and his two younger brothers. 

“I’ve not seen our sister Katherine,” Colum remarked. They had dined earlier on with their host and his family, and the Countess had spoken so little that she might just as well not have been there. When the men remained at the table, and before the other guests arrived, she rose and vanished. Now, bored and enraged because he had been unable to find fault with the Earl Fraser, the old Laird searched for some other cause of grievance.  
“The Earl has not danced once with her,” he snarled to Dougal, who was leaning up against the tapestried wall, watching the dancers through his narrow eyes.  
“I canna say I blame him,” Dougal answered. “Our dear sister Katherine has always looked a little like a horse. You’re feeling quarrelsome, Brother. Think of something else. Ye canna pick a quarrel with a man because he doesna fancy _Katherine_ …”  
“I have no intention of picking a quarrel,” Colum snapped. “This is not the time or the place. If you’re talking about quarrels, that should have been arranged months ago! To hell with the Frasers. Jamie is MacKenzie now! Yet still we have to attend this.... farce!”  
“I dinna see why it’s too late.” Rupert spoke for the first time in an hour. “Any quarrel would be justified!” He interjected eagerly.  
“Not now, Rupert! Where’s the whisky? … Rupert, call that servant over there. My glass is empty!” Colum said visibly irritated.  
“The feud is over, Brother. It ended when we all stood in the Chapel at Broch Tuarach and watched our dear sister Katherine marry, do you remember? And it was you who insisted that peace must be made …” Dougal said derisively.  
Colum scowled as Dougal smiled back at him. 

A servant came with a silver jug and some water and refilled their glasses. Dougal took a long drink and then set the glass down. “Since we’re here, we may as well enjoy it. I’m going to pay court to some of these charming ladies I see here. That little child with the fair hair from Glendar …”  
“Lord Mackintosh’s niece,” Colum said. “Mind yourself, Dougal. They’re a powerful family; you’ll no’ get away with your tricks there.”  
“I have no tricks in mind,” Dougal protested. “Seeing my nephew Jamie dancing there with a fair bride-to-be on his arm, I’m in a romantic mood, that’s all. Mackintosh’s niece, is she? Charming. In that gown ye can see quite a lot of her little breasts. Farewell, Brothers.” He bowed to them and began to make his way towards the seventeen-year-old Fiona Mackintosh of Glendar.

“Dougal is dancing,” Claire whispered with a laugh. “I had hoped your uncles would enjoy themselves.”  
Jamie and Claire stood very close together, her arm through his; they were a perfect complement to each other. Her dress was white, crossed by a silk tartan sash, and the magnificent emerald necklace shone round her neck. And Jamie did credit to his ancient blood and the blood of the noble Spanish lady who had been his great-grandmother. His red hair was powdered and tied back in a queue with a velvet ribbon; his red velvet coat and dress kilt fitted his splendid, muscular figure and there was a large diamond pin in his lace cravat.  
“Christ! Dougal is partnering the wee Glendar lass,” Jamie muttered, “and I rather wish he wasn’t. I hope her Uncle chases him off. You don’t know Dougal, Claire, or ye wouldna wish him on any innocent of seventeen. No’ even for one dance.”  
“Is he really so bad, then?” she teased him. “And is he worse than you were?”  
“Dougal has what his old nurse described as the devil’s grin. It’s seldom off his face. Do ye know, we were in a fight once outside some tavern in Edinburgh when we were all verra young, and I heard someone laughing. It was Dougal, fighting like the Devil and laughing like a madman.”  
“Sounds like Rupert,” she said. “Dougal has spoken to me once or twice recently and been quite charming, but Rupert …” Claire replied.  
“Rupert is a savage, but Dougal is far worse.. Dougal hides behind a charming countenance, that’s what makes him dangerous... you’ll never ken what’s coming,” Jamie interrupted. “Come, my love, let’s walk a little in the air. It’s hot in here and I have a mind to be alone with ye. We have a turret walk with the most beautiful view in the world.”

They climbed the narrow stone steps that wound up the inside of the castle wall and came to a little door. It opened out to a parapet walk which ran half-way round the wall and ended at the entrance to a smaller turret.  
“This is called the Ladies’ Walk,” Jamie said. “When my ancestors were away at the Crusades, their wives used to stand here and watch for them.” Jamie drew her back against the shelter of a buttress and took her in his arms.  
“You’ll have no need to ever watch for me,” he said. “I’ll never leave ye for a day!” Eagerly she met his lips and hers opened under the urgent pressure of his kiss. Desire blazed up between them. Even the slightest contact could ignite their senses and bring them into a frenzy of passion in each other’s arms.  
Jamie reluctantly pulled away. “We should get back to the Ball before I lose my head.”  
“Is there a turret walk at Leoch?” Claire looked over her shoulder at him as they turned to go back, and her green eyes shone as brightly as the great emerald stones round her neck.  
“Nay. There is no turret walk,” he answered. “But you willna need one there either” he said huskily.

In the corridor, half-way down to the head of the main staircase, they suddenly came upon the Countess Katherine. She had dressed for the Ball in a gown of pale pink velvet and satin, more suitable to a girl of Claire’s age than her own. The soft, youthful colour of her dress only accentuated the pale face and the tired eyes.  
“Why, Katherine!” Jamie stopped, and, taking her hand, kissed it and bowed. “I’ve hardly seen you tonight. We looked for ye below.”  
“I have been in the Library,” Katherine answered flatly. She looked at him and then very slowly at Claire. “You have been taking the air, I see,” she said.  
“Yes, Kathy.” Jamie’s tone changed to the friendly, mocking voice she had known when they were both children and Jamie had paid long visits to Leoch.  
“Yes, We’ve been taking the air, as ye call it. And haven’t ye done the same, an old married woman, like yourself?  
To his surprise, Katherine’s pale face flushed a deep, painful red. She did not look at Claire.  
“No,” she said, and her voice, in contrast to her strained unhappy face, was flat and calm. “Nay, I haven’t. Or anything like it. If you want to ken why, you had best ask Jenny. I’m not surprised she hasna told you. Now I’m going to bed. I’m not used to festivities,” and she gave them both a terrible smile. “G’ night.”  
“Well I’ll be damned.” Jamie stood looking after Katherine as she walked quickly back down the corridor and disappeared into one of the rooms. “What the devil did she mean by all that?”  
“I don’t think she’s very happy,” Claire said. “Why is your family so cruel to her? I noticed the night we had supper that your father and Jenny... well, nobody converses with her at all.”  
Jamie looked back at her puzzled. “You know Claire, I didna really think about it. Katherine has always kept to herself. She spends her days quietly... sewing.” He said with a frown.

They made their way back to the Ball and Jamie looked among the guests for his sister. Any insult to Katherine could break the peace with the MacKenzies. That would not bode well for Jamie and his bride’s future.  
“Jenny! May I have a moment with ye?” Jamie asked as he grabbed her arm to pull her aside.  
“Good Evening, Brother.... Claire,” she said coldly. “What is this about? You’ve scarcely said two words to me all evening”  
“It’s about Katherine. She was verra unhappy tonight. Did she mention anything about our father to ye?” Jamie demanded.  
Suddenly Jenny felt almost guilty about the Countess. “She told me the other day that a marriage of convenience was not what she expected when she married Father.” Jenny replied carefully.  
Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. Jamie frowned. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “But what is meant here by a marriage of convenience? Explain it to me, I feel a little confused …”  
“It is not consummated.” Jenny replied curtly. “I think she thought Father might care for her and have children by her … it’s a pity the situation was not explained to her before. It would have saved the poor thing a lot of disappointment.”  
“It was not explained to us either... the MacKenzies,” he said feeling his temper rise.  
“Och! So you’re a MacKenzie now, brother? No’ a Fraser!” She snapped back fiercely. Now they were standing facing each other in the empty corridor, and Jenny thought suddenly, _We’re going to quarrel, and over Katherine, of all people in the world. It’s too ridiculous …_  
Jamie continued to rant ignoring her question, “Are ye telling me that our father has offered the MacKenzies that insult for all these years? Good God, Jenny, I’d rather he’d treated her as I treated the whores in Edinburg… it’s less cruel!” Jamie said exasperated.  
“Jamie, dinna be angry with me!,” she said visibly annoyed. “I am not responsible for what happened between Father and Katherine. Dinna look so angry with me as if it were my fault …”  
“Of course it’s no’ your fault,” he snapped back.  
“I was not aware of the insult to the honour of the MacKenzies. If Colum finds out... I dinna want another clan war!” He growled.  
“Jamie, he doesna love her. He never pretended that, surely? Why must ye start all this talk of insults and honour now?” Jenny said coldly.  
“Did ye no’ realize that our father and Colum would seize any excuse to start a clan war with each other?”   
“Of course I know,” Jenny said impatiently. “I know _verra_ well that there’s nothing I can do for Katherine without risking the peace between clans. I assure you, brother... best keep this to yourself. Dinna nurse any new grudges or we will never be peaceful... or happy!” She said and walked away from them without another glance. 

Jamie stood still for a moment frowning while watching his sister walk away. “My sister speaks with me like I’m daft,” Jamie said bitterly to Claire.  
“Perhaps, Jamie... after we are married, we could bring Katherine back to Leoch with us. That was her home once. She may be happier there,” Claire suggested.  
“Katherine may not have your wit and beauty, Claire, but she has the MacKenzies’ sense of what is fitting. She will never be returned to her own people as the repudiated wife of a Fraser. She will stay here and suffer for as long as my father lives. But we can be kind to her, my love... that’s all we can try to do,” he said resigned.  
“I will do my best,” Claire promised.  
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “We won’t talk of it again, but I wonder if my father knows what an enemy he’s made … Come now, kiss me and we’ll go back to the Ball. I love ye so, my Sorcha. To hell with Katherine, this is our night. Come.” Jamie beckoned.

Back in the Great Hall, Colum advanced to meet them. He was walking mostly unaided now, just with the use of a cane as his broken bones had healed rapidly. He smiled at Claire and took Jamie by the arm. “Come into the supper-room; some of the guests have still to meet you.”  
And in the supper-room they were surrounded—Claire found herself in the centre of a group of women, and soon the talk was of dresses and the mysterious rooms of Broch Tuarach, which she was going to see for the first time tomorrow. With the men—among them Jamie’s cousin, Simon Fraser, the Master of Lovat—the talk was more serious.

“There are rumours that there’ll be a landing soon from France,” the Master of Lovat said. He was the young son of Simon “The Fox” Fraser, Lord Lovat, chief of the Clan Fraser.  
“One of my cousins has just come back from Paris and he said the Prince, God bless him, was ready to muster an army and set sail weeks ago. He hoped for support from the King of France, but so far the King hasnae received him. But he’ll come one day; he’ll come whether the French help him or not.”  
“I hope not,” Jamie said. “I hope nobody tempts the Prince into doing anything rash like his father in ’15 and thereby ruining us and the Stuart cause for ever. If he comes, then he must bring an army with him and a proper plan of action. We wouldna be dealing with each other in a new Rebellion. The English are to be taken seriously when it comes to war.”  
“I’d match one of my men against ten of their wretched redcoats any day,” Colum snapped. “They’ve run from the Highland charge again and again. Personally, I’d rather put our king back on his throne without the help of France or any other foreigners. Scotsmen alone should do it, and Scotsmen can.” The Laird stated confidently.  
The son of Lord Lovat lifted his wineglass and immediately Colum and Jamie raised theirs. There was a large pitcher of water standing on the table near them, and Jamie moved it into the centre and then slowly passed his glass above it.  
“To the King, gentlemen!”  
“To the King over the Water! God Save King James!” Colum boomed.  
“And now, if we do have to fight for the Prince,” the young Fraser said, “I hope we’ll all meet together on the field. But it’s only a hope for the future I’m afraid. If he comes without French aid my father willna support him. And he must ken that others won’t. In the meantime, we’ll drink to him! Gentlemen, I give you the Prince!” 

As they moved away, Colum pulled Jamie aside.  
“Soft words from the Frasers,” he said under his breath. “They’re not overburdened with fighting spirit. Did ye hear that young whelp of Lovat’s saying his father wouldna come out without a French army? My brothers will go with the Prince and I’ll ride out myself if I have to be held up on my horse. Remember you’re MacKenzie now... If the day comes, Jamie, if the day comes!” Colum swore.  
“Who knows?” Jamie replied. “Rumours come and go on the wind and the time goes with them and nothing happens. As for me, I’m a month off my wedding and then a honeymoon in France. Claire is eager to visit with her kin. The last thing I have thought about is a rising.”  
“You’ve a fine bride,” Colum said. “My greetings to your father, Jamie. I saw him a while past in the Great Hall but he was drunk and in none too good a humour. But my greetings just the same.” He said sardonically and then walked away slowly with the aid of his cane.

Jamie moved to Claire to return to the Great Hall where there was a lively dance. Rupert was still standing where he had last seen him, too drunk to move or speak but still firmly on his legs. Jamie made a mocking bow to his Uncle Dougal, who was talking to the gentle Fiona Mackintosh. He was leaning as close to her as he dared, and she was staring up at him, her eyes wide open as if she were being hypnotized by a snake. Dougal glanced at his nephew and winked.  
“If he seduces her tonight,” Jamie said under his breath to Claire, “we’ll have the biggest clan war for a hundred years.”  
Claire looked quickly over at them both and then away. For a moment she had found Dougal’s eyes fixed on her and there was something in them that made her shudder. 

There was a new light coming into the room, competing with the hundreds of candles, and it was the soft grey light of the coming dawn. As it turned from grey to palest pink, the first of the guests began to leave, among them the Laird of Leoch and his two brothers.

Jamie and Claire retired to their chambers exhausted. Jamie held Claire closely and silently gave thanks—for her—and his two clans, the Frasers and the MacKenzies. It was a miracle not one single person was killed during his engagement ball which had brought both clans together.


	25. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie leaves with Dougal to collect the rents. Claire keeps herself busy at castle Leoch, saves a small village from an evil priest and then finds herself in a hole.

Claire let out a sigh of relief when they returned to castle Leoch after their engagement ball. In one month she would be wed to Jamie and then they would be off to France. _The sooner the better._ She was still very early in her pregnancy, and the weather was still fair for traveling... all would be well.

“I’m leaving in two days’ time,” Jamie said abruptly as he entered her bedchambers.  
“Leaving! To where? You mean to leave me at Leoch... alone?” Claire asked, startled. Her heart began to beat faster.  
“Nay. You willna be alone. Fergus will keep guard, and there is Lizzie... and Mrs. FitzGibbons... and any patients that visit your surgery... and Geillis—” he continued.  
“Where are you going? And for how long?” Claire interrupted as she was beginning to panic.  
“Through the MacKenzie lands to collect the rents. I will be gone only a fortnight. Colum doesna travel, so visiting the tenants and tacksmen that canna come to the Gathering—that’s left to Dougal and to me.” He explained.  
Claire continued to stare at Jamie with a worried look on her face.  
“Now Claire, I dinna wish to leave ye, but it’s only a fortnight. I will be back well before our wedding. Dinna fash yourself, my love” he added before giving her a kiss.  
Claire finally smiled reluctantly. “Alright then Jamie. I can manage.” She said unconvincingly just before she began to cry.  
“Mo duinne,” he said rushing to her side. “Dinna cry! You know I dinna want to leave ye,” he whispered softly gathering Claire in his arms and rocking her gently.  
“I know, it’s really fine, Jamie. It’s just the pregnancy hormones. They make me emotional,” Claire replied falling limp in his arms allowing them to soothe her.  
“Whore... moans?” Jamie asked slowly.  
“Not whore moans,” Claire laughed. “Horror mones,” she pronounced slowly.  
“Horror?” He asked dubiously.  
“Yes, well they can be a horror. But no, it’s a medical term. It’s the chemicals.. or humors a woman’s body makes when she is with child,” Claire explained.  
“Aye, well make sure ye rest while I’m away. You dinna have to spend everyday tending to patients,” he whispered.  
“I know... I will be fine Jamie. Lots of rest, I promise,” she assured him.  
“Lots of rest... later...” he whispered while pushing her down on the bed just before he claimed her mouth with his.

Jamie rode out of the gates of Castle Leoch two days later, just before dawn. Claire ignored her feeling of impending doom and forced herself back to sleep.  
She was awoken just hours later by the vigilant Lizzie. She stretched and turned over, settling deeper into her pillows, until the maid leaned over the bed and shook her.  
“Wake up, Mistress. It’s past eight.”  
“Oh, Lizzie! I’m still half asleep. Go away!” Claire grumbled.  
“You told me yesterday to wake ye early! Wake up, milady!”  
“Of course!” Claire sat up quickly. “I promised to take you to the village with me. I’m sure you’ll like it. Give me my robe and prepare some hot water to bathe.” Lizzie had not spent any time away from Leoch since her arrival and Claire did not want to disappoint her.  
“I had the kitchen prepare a picnic to come with us,” Lizzie said.  
“That’s sounds wonderful,” Claire replied as she bathed. She let Lizzie dry her and help her into her chemise and corselet. She then dressed in a riding habit with a Scots bonnet in dark blue velvet, and held out her hand for her new gloves.

The sun streamed in through the window and it looked like it would be a fine day for a trip to the village of Cranesmuir. Claire needed to stay busy and keep her mind off the fact that Jamie has left Leoch. Lizzie tied her cloak under her chin and pulled the plain bonnet over her dark hair.  
“Thank you,” Claire said. “You are very good, Lizzie, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”  
“Aye, Mistress. I told Fergus to bring the horses round at half past nine. I think I hear them now.” Lizzie said.

It was a lovely morning. Early July had been warm with little rain, and the countryside had blossomed into heather and patches of bright yellow gorse. The mountains rose high in the distance, their sides a dark purple wreathed in drifting clouds. Although Uncle Lamb had given Claire some riding lessons in her youth, she was a far cry from experienced horsewoman; Lizzie was patient and they took their time as they traveled the short distance to the village. Claire felt some guilt about Fergus though. She was certain he would rather be sparring with the men each morning instead of babysitting. But he had a pleasant disposition and gave Claire helpful lessons in handling a horse.

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire spied a flash of white and heard rustling through the bushes. She turned her head and saw the white wolf a short distance away. It was almost as if the beast was following them!  
_Monsieur Raymond! Well, he did promise he would be close!_ Claire was not entirely sure if that was a blessing or a curse. She needed to speak with Monsieur Raymond soon. He had to be informed of her impending trip to France... and bring them to Espy.  
_Follow the the white rabbit... or wolf... right down the rabbit hole!_ Claire thought sardonically that she had much in common with _Alice in Wonderland._ She wondered what she would discover in France and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know!

Laoghaire was walking through Cranesmuir on errand fetching necessities for the kitchens at Leoch. She was in low spirits upon the realization that she was now with child. She stopped suddenly when she saw Claire and her maid walking into Geillis’s boutique. Fergus stood outside keeping watch. Her face flushed red with anger at the thought of Claire betrothed to her James. _‘Witch’_ she muttered venomously continuing her errands.  
_’Tis fittin’ the castle witch is payin’ a visit to the village witch,_ she thought bitterly. Laoghaire was also enraged with Geillis Duncan. _I ha’ given the witch all my coin, yet no love-philtres has given me James!_ She was bursting with jealousy at the thought of Claire buying new fabrics and other finery... while she chopped scraps in the scullery when she should be a lady. She would soon be shamed with a bastard.  
_James Fraser was mine first and will be mine again._ Tears ran down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away and walked to the kirk. She felt a sudden need to confess her sins to Father Bain.

“Claire! How lovely!” Geillis exclaimed as Claire and Lizzie walked into her small shop. Lizzie’s eyes lit up at once as she perused the costly imported fabrics and brightly colored dyes for clothing in the small, but rather modern looking parlor.  
“Oh my, I do believe Lizzie’s in heaven,” Claire informed Geillis at her maid’s delighted countenance.  
“Aye, as she should be. No’ many village folk can afford such brightly colored weaves. I sell most of my finery traveling to the nobility throughout the Highlands,” she replied.  
“Is that dangerous?” Claire asked, her curiosity piqued. Jamie wouldn’t allow her to go anywhere without guard, not even through castle Leoch.  
“Nay, the Highlands have enjoyed peace for many years now. I also have Arthur....” Geillis pointed to the muscular giant sitting at a table in the back of the parlor eating a bowl of stew.  
“Wow... he’s... huge” Claire trailed off.  
“Indeed he is... “ Geilles replied wickedly. “Take anything ye fancy lass then come upstairs,” Geillis said to Lizzie then took Claire’s arm. “Come wi’ me. I want to show ye the stillroom,” she said guiding Claire up a narrow wooden stair to a long, narrow airy loft with large windows.

The room was equipped with long drying frames netted with gauze, hooks above the small fireplace for heat-drying, and open shelves along the walls, drilled with holes to allow for air circulation. The air was thick with the spicy scent of drying basil, rosemary, and lavender. A surprisingly modern long counter ran along one side of the room, displaying a remarkable assortment of mortars, pestles, mixing bowls, and spoons, all immaculately clean.

“Wonderful,” Claire said as she perused the room. Geillis smiled back at her in anticipation of afternoon of herb-pounding and gossip. Claire and Lizzie both enjoyed Geillis’ company. She knew every scandal that had occurred either in village or castle in the last ten years, and she could tell endless entertaining stories.

A couple hours later and after several cups of tea, they could hear the church bells ringing in the distance and the sounds of a loud commotion outside. Geillis walked to the windows impatiently and quickly opened one to see what caused the uproar.

Joining her at the window, Claire could see a crowd dressed in church-going garb of gown, kirtle, coat, and bonnet, led by the stocky, overweight priest who had a young boy gripped at his neck. Claire had met the priest, who served both village and castle, once before at Leoch when she had tended to Colum’s wounded leg. He had tried to object to her, but Dougal quickly removed him from Colum’s bedchambers. The boy he had in his custody now, dressed in ragged trees and a filthy shirt, looked no more than twelve years old. 

“Father Bain,” Geillis said. “He’s a real arse. Best keep your distance from him Claire. I have heard it on good authority that the man’s sins are too great to count. His blood lust shows no mercy—no’ even for women or bairn. He is also a rapist! The local magistrate’s wife told me he raped a woman and sorely abused her before condemning her to death!”  
“That’s barbaric!” Claire cried. “How can the magistrate allow this to happen! Is there no justice in the village?”  
Geillis shrugged. “The church has great influence among the village folk. Most are god fearing, superstitious and ignorant—canna read or write. If Father Bain seys they will burn in hell, they believe him. His offenses are usually carried out on poorest crofters. He condemns many to death... seys they are possessed by the devil. The villagers dinna object out of fear. I dinna ken if they fear the devil or Father Bain, himself.”  
“Someone should condemn him to death!” Claire replied angrily.  
“Aye, that’s God’s truth. But the Laird MacKenzie takes little interest in such matters in the village. He has to manage the MacKenzie warriors and the protection of the Keep and all the lands. He canna be bothered wi’ such trivial concerns.” Geillis informed her.  
“Perhaps I should have a word with Colum about Father Bain... he may think otherwise,” Claire suggested.  
“Perhaps... ye ken a new village priest, a good man, would be a sorely needed improvement to the village. Ye also must consider the possibility that any word against Father Bain may do more harm than good.” Geillis replied.  
“What is he doing to that young boy? What is his crime?” Claire asked as she watched the crowds in horror.  
“I dinna ken his crime, probably stealing. It looks like the boy is about to have his ear nailed to the pillory.” Geillis said flatly.  
Claire walked away from the window in disgust. She couldn’t look upon the poor boy below any longer. Something must be done.  
“I thank you Geillis for this afternoon, but the sun is starting to go down, and we must be on our way back to the Keep.” she said.  
“Aye, it was a pleasure Claire! Please visit wi’ me again soon. I will wrap up the fabrics and tartans Lizzie chose for ye.” Geillis said leading them down the stairs.

When the left the boutique, Claire spotted Fergus on the side of the building observing the mob.  
“Fergus, never mind helping me on my horse. I want to leave the village as soon as possible! I will ride with you back to the castle.”  
Fergus nodded, and lifted her onto his horse. He packed up their finery, and then mounted his horse behind Claire and the trio quickly returned to the castle Leoch without looking back.

The next morning, Claire gathered some of her herbal medicinals and asked Fergus to bring her to Colum’s study. After breaking his fast, the Laird spent most mornings in his study tending to clan business and correspondence while his men sparred in the training fields. She hoped he would welcome a visit.  
“Good morrow, Mistress Claire! What brings ye this morning?  
“Good morning, my Laird! I hope I’m no interruption. I just thought that after all the festivities and travel, I should check on your leg and make sure you didn’t strain it.” Claire said brightly with a smile. “If it’s no trouble for you, that is.”  
“No trouble at all,” he replied. “I’ll send for some refreshments and ye can examine the leg. It doesna pain me much anymore.”  
“Well, that is good news. I will just examine the leg to be certain and I also brought some herbal medicines to ensure proper healing. We’ll need some hot water,” Claire informed him. “Why don’t you just sit over here, and I can remove your boot and stocking and examine the leg.” She suggested. 

While Claire prepared for the examination, she hoped Colum would give her an opening to voice her complaint with Father Bain. Colum had eyes and ears all over the castle and his lands. There wasn’t a shred of gossip that was not whispered in his ear. Perhaps he knew of Father Bain’s transgressions against the villagers and he simply did not care? Anything she said that could be construed as criticism of the Laird would not be well received. Claire would have to approach this matter delicately.  
“So tell me then, how do you fare at Leoch? I hear high praise from those you’ve tended to in the Beaton surgery,” Colum asked.  
“I’m quite happy, my Laird! I find myself very much at home these days. I’m looking forward to my wedding,” she said.  
“Aye, as ye should be,” he chuckled.  
“And since I am to be married to a MacKenzie.. perhaps we should call the surgery... the MacKenzie surgery instead of Beaton’s surgery?” she suggested with a smile.  
“Och! Right ye are! The MacKenzie surgery indeed!” Colum beamed. Nothing put Colum in a better mood than reminding him, even if in an indirect way, that Jamie was now a MacKenzie.  
“Actually, when I was purchasing some herbs for the surgery in the village yesterday... I did see something very strange... well, perhaps I should not tell you... it may be wrong of me to say...“ Claire said slowly.  
Colum immediately perked up. “Nay! As Laird, I’ve a mind to ken all that happens on my lands. Do continue...”  
Claire had his full attention. _‘Scots certainly love a good story... and some good gossip,’_ Claire thought and she relayed the events of the previous day with emphasis on the cruelty to the young boy.

The next morning, Father Bain received a missive from his Laird expelling him from the parish and all the MacKenzie lands. He crumpled up the sheet cursing. He rose to toss the parchment into the fire, then walked over to his servant that delivered it and smacked her across the face. “Out now, wench!” he bellowed. He sat alone in his study for many hours fuming with anger.

For 20 years Father Bain had humbly served both village parish and castle—he cured thousands souls from evil—and now he was dismissed on account of the castle’s new Mistress. He knew the devil was at play here. He would leave the MacKenzie lands—the laird and his brothers were naught but a bunch of whoremongers—but first he would pay a visit the the McKibbins. He had listened to a damning confession the day before by the young Laoghaire McKibbons girl. It was his divine duty to root out this new evil... the _Sassenach_ witch... 

For the next two weeks Claire kept herself occupied as much as she could. She tended to patients in her surgery, worked in the gardens, read volumes she found browsing through Colum’s library, and took her supper in the evenings with the clan in the Great Hall. She sat with Colum at the high dais in place of Jamie and Dougal during their meals.  
“I’ve good news for ye, Mistress Claire. The troublesome priest will be leaving MacKenzie lands verra soon.” Colum informed her as they sat in the Great Hall for their evening meal.  
“Good news indeed! I’m so pleased!” Claire exclaimed. She then paused for a moment and slightly backpedaled. “What I meant to say is... well, I dont wish to speak against a man of god... but—” she continued sheepishly.  
“Nay,” Colum said waving his hand dismissively. “It’s no’ the first I’ve heard of the priest’s misdeeds. There are many who dinna care for him... he may be a priest, but his uncharitable soul is as black as the devil...”  
“Well, I’m relieved to hear. I know that many of the villagers will be happier now. I hope the next priest to lead the parish will be a man with more... compassion for his people,” she said.  
“Aye, I will make it so,” he said firmly.  
Claire smiled and felt the weight of worry lifted. She had been very nervous that week after interfering with religious matters. This was not her century and she had replayed the warning Geillis had given her many times in her head, _‘Ye may do more harm than good.’_

Claire was restless as she paced her chambers. Two weeks had past since Jamie left Leoch... and she was expecting him today. It was Lizzie’s suggestion that Claire should try on her wedding dress to pass the time while they waited for Jamie. The seamstress Jeannie, who was commissioned to make the dress, and her two assistants had been working on it for nearly a month at the castle. The wedding dress was finally ready and they brought it into Claire’s bedchambers and watched while the dress was tried on. It was made of pure white satin, and Jeannie had embroidered the whole bodice with a delicate design of flowers in silver thread and hundreds of split pearls. Magnificent lace hung in ruffles round the low neck, and covered Claire’s arms from the elbow to the upper wrist. The under-petticoat was cloth of silver and the same shining silver tracery of flowers crept down the sides of the satin overskirt and vanished round the hem where the dress fell into a short train. Her veil was made with a fine lace, as fine as cobweb and worked with such intricacy that it seemed impossible to Claire that the human eye and hand could have fashioned it during this century.  
“I am very well pleased,” Claire said at last. “My thanks to you, Jeannie, and to you, Mary and Morag. The dress is perfect.”  
“May God send your ladyship every happiness,” they replied quickly.

In just a week, Claire would be married, standing before the altar in the thirteenth-century chapel with Jamie beside her. She would have a new life in a century that was not the one she was born in—and soon a new child. Claire wiped away a small tear that slid down her cheek. They were still standing there, grouped round the mirror, when the door of Claire’s chamber opened suddenly and she turned round to find an unfamiliar maid standing there.  
“Forgive me Mistress, I ken ye are occupied wi’ the wedding,” she said shyly. “But I thought to bring ye this message that has come for ye.” She continued.  
“Thank you very much,” Claire said as she walked over to the maid and accepted the letter. She hoped it was word from Jamie.  
She opened the parchment and read it quickly as the maid curtsied and hurried out of the room.  
After reading the letter, Claire immediately started barking orders at the women.  
“Lizzie, Jeannie... quickly... Help me out of this dress. I need to put on my riding clothes. The Mistress Duncan is ill and we need to go to the village at once!”  
“Oh no!” Lizzie cried as she began to help Claire out of her wedding gown.  
“It will be alright. Let’s just dress quickly and get Fergus to bring the horses,” Claire said. She hoped it would be alright. Geillis had a great deal of knowledge of healing herbs. If she was sending for Claire, it was probably serious.

When they arrived to the village, Claire and Lizzie quickly headed for Geillis’ small boutique. Pushing open the door, Claire saw Geillis, sitting in a comfortable chair, feet propped on the counter.  
“Claire! How lovely to see ye!” She exclaimed.  
“Geillis, what’s the matter? Are you ill?” Claire asked with concern.  
“Ill? Me? No. Shall we go to the stillroom for a cup of tea? I heard the most incredible story the other day about the blacksmith’s son... he—”  
“Do you mean to say that you didn’t send for me?” Claire interrupted curtly.  
“No. Why would I send for ye?” She stared at Claire, wide-eyed.  
“Then why—” Claire began.  
Both women became distracted by a loud noise from outside. A rumbling, muttering sort of noise. They had both heard it before, the loud commotion that a mob of people created.  
“No’ again,” Geillis said exasperated.  
This time the noise came closer... too close. The women jumped as rocks came flying at the windows breaking one.  
“Geillis... do you have a backdoor? We need to run!” Claire yelled.  
“Aye, follow me!” she said as they moved to the back of the parlor. “Arthur!” She screamed.  
But it was too late. Four guards had already entered the parlor. One of the guards grabbed Lizzie. She screamed as a guard dragged her out of the parlor.  
“Lizzie!” Claire shouted. “Let her go!”  
Another guard grabbed Claire, and the other two grabbed Geillis. The guards led the three women out the front door where the mob eagerly awaited them. Small stones and pieces of rubbish were thrown at them. Claire felt a sting on her forehead as she was hit by a large stone. She touched the tender area and realized she was bleeding. The guards put the women in the back of a cart. They then tied each of the women’s hands and feet together with rope.  
“Geillis, what is the meaning of this!” Claire cried.  
“I dinna ken!” She snapped.  
“Silence!” a guard shouted at them. “Ye are both arrested under the suspicion of witchcraft!” He spat out with disgust.  
The guards locked the women in the cart and soon they were being taken away. The villagers continued to shout at them and throw stones.  
In the mob, Claire spotted Fergus. He was running after the cart. Claire saw his face was bloodied. He had tried to fight the four guards.  
“Milady!” He cried.  
“Find Jamie!” Claire yelled as the driver whipped the horses and the cart was pulled away from the mob.

They were taken through the village and soon approached a large drab building in poor condition. The driver stopped the horses and the guards came around to the cart once again. They unlocked the door and untied the women.  
On the side of the building, Claire saw a large cellar door on the ground, except the door also had bars. _Oh no, please don’t let the prison be in the ground!_ Suddenly she was shaking all over in fear.  
The guard walked over to the cellar door, unlocked it and lifted it up. Another guard shoved the women towards it.  
“Down wi’ ye!” he shouted.  
Claire looked down into the dark reeking pit. “You can’t put us down there!” She cried. “My husband is the son of an Earl! You’ll be sorry!”  
The guard slapped Claire hard across her face. Geillis gave her a look of warning and she descended into the cellar.  
Claire took a deep breath and followed her.  
_Keep your mouth shut and try not to get everyone killed... Jamie will find us,_ she thought as she climbed down into the subterranean jail.  
Lizzie followed them while sobbing loudly.  
The guards locked the women in their prison and left. Claire shuttered at their surroundings. It was dark, cold and damp with an overpowering stench that made Claire nauseas. She moved as far away from the two women as possible and vomited.  
“Geillis.. I cannot... stay down here... the smell is vile! And I’m pregnant! Where in the hell are we?” Claire gasped.  
“The thieves’ hole. This is where thieves, vagrants, blasphemers, adulterers … and suspected witches await their trial,” Geillis said in a shaky voice as she started to cry.


	26. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Geillis go on trial for witchcraft

Their prison was cold, damp and thoroughly miserable. Claire looked up through the bars to the sky above. The sun was setting and it had started to drizzle. Tiny droplets of rain fell on her face and she shivered as the wind picked up. Geillis and Lizzie were huddled together for warmth against one wall, not speaking much. The sky above grew gradually darker as the night came on, until it faded into the black all around.  
“How long do you think they mean to keep us here?” Claire asked.  
Geillis shifted, stretching her legs.  
“Not too long,” she said. “They’ll be waiting for the ecclesiastical examiners. They should be here any day.” She rubbed her hands together to warm them.  
“Tell me about the examiners,” Claire asked. “What will happen, exactly?”  
“I canna say, exactly. I’ve ne’er seen a witch trial, though I’ve heard of them, of course.” Geillis paused a moment, considering. “They’ll not be expecting a witch trial, since they were coming to try some land disputes. So they’ll not have a witch-pricker, at least.”  
“A what?” Claire exclaimed.  
“Witches canna feel pain,” Geilie explained. “Nor do they bleed when they’re pricked. A witch-pricker, equipped with a variety of pins, tests for this condition.  
“In that case, it’s too bad there won’t be one. We could easily pass that test,” Claire replied.  
“I’d not be too sure,” Geillis said reflectively, “I’ve heard of witch-prickers with special pins—made to collapse when they’re pressed against the skin, so it looks as though but they don’t go in.”  
“But why? Why try to prove someone a witch on purpose?” Claire cried.  
“Ye still dinna understand, do ye?” she said. “They mean to kill us.”  
Lizzie, who had been quietly huddling against a Geillis, began to cry again.  
“Why, Geillis?” Claire asked, feeling rather breathless. “Do you know?” The atmosphere in the hole was thick with the stench of rot, filth, and damp soil.  
Geillis shrugged. A shadow from above had moved and the sound of footprints could be heard above the prison.  
“Thank god!” Claire exclaimed. “I knew Fergus would find Jamie. They’re going to release us!” Claire said with relief.

The cell door opened above and there was a large shadow that fell into the darkness of their cell. The prison door was closed and locked again and Claire heard moaning as she moved to the dark figure on the ground. In the dim light Claire could see the outline of a man.  
“Milady,” the man croaked out.  
“Fergus?” Claire asked barely able to see in the darkness.  
“Milady,” he repeated.  
“Oh Fergus! Oh no! You are hurt!” Claire cried as she leaned down next to him. He was bleeding and she felt along his arms and legs to sense if he had broken any bones in the fall. She closed her eyes and was relieved. He wasn’t seriously injured.  
“Milady, I tried to find Milord. The guards captured me before I could return to the castle.” He rasped.  
“It’s alright Fergus. Let me tend to these cuts and bruises,” Claire said as she began to wipe the blood from his face.  
“Who else knows you were in the village?” Geillis asked.  
“What? Well, nobody I suppose. I received your note and came to the village immediately. I did not inform Colum or anyone else at Leoch.” Claire replied.  
“So no one knows we’re here. Now that Fergus is here, no one will be looking for us.” Geillis said flatly as Lizzie continued to cry even louder.  
“No, I suppose not. Not tonight anyway. Jamie will be looking for me as soon as he returns to Leoch. He’ll arrive at the castle any day now,” Claire said without confidence.  
“I hope so,” Geillis replied. “If it’s much comfort to ye,” she said dryly, “I doubt ye were meant to be taken. It’s a matter between me and Colum—you had the ill-luck to be with me when the townsfolk came. Had ye been wi’ Colum, you’d likely have been safe enough, Sassenach or no.”  
Claire flinched at the word ‘Sassenach’.  
“Colum! Why would he do this to you! I don’t believe it!”  
“Well, I did provide a brew to one of his maids at Leoch to end a pregnancy. The daft maid didna follow instructions and bled to her death. Colum has no’ cared for me since. Although it was many years ago. It’s peculiar he should seek to punish me now,” Geillis mused.  
Claire sighed and slumped down next to Fergus.  
“Why did you come to my house?” Geillis asked curiously.  
“I thought you had sent for me. One of the girls at the castle brought me a message—from you,” Claire said.  
“Ah,” Geillis said thoughtfully. “Laoghaire, was it?”  
“How do you know it was Laoghaire?” Claire asked, shivering while trying to make Fergus comfortable.  
“I told ye there were those that minded your taking the red-haired laddie. She’s purchased many love potions over the years. I suppose she thought if ye were gone, she’d have a chance at him again.” Geillis said.  
Claire was shocked at this, “But she couldn’t!”  
“Anyone seein’ the way the lad looks at ye would know that. But I dinna suppose she’s seen enough o’ the world to ken such things.” Geillis replied flatly.  
Claire moved Fergus against a wall and sat next to him and hugged her knees. Any light from the hole above had faded away to the soft dark of night. The examiners would arrive within the next day or so. It was getting a bit late for conversation and they each sought what solace they could find in sleep. 

The examiners arrived a day later. From the dankness of the thieves’ hole, they could hear the stir of their arrival; the shouts of the villagers, and the clopping of horses on the stone of the High Street. The bustle grew fainter as the procession passed down the street toward the distant square.  
“They’ve come,” said Geillis, listening to the excitement above.  
“Thank god, I thought I would freeze to death first,” Claire said.  
They continued to freeze however. It was not until noon of the next day that the door of the prison opened abruptly, and they were pulled out of the pit to be taken to trial. No doubt to accommodate the crowd of spectators, the session was held in the town square.

There were two ecclesiastical examiners, seated on padded stools behind a table that had been erected in the square. One judge was abnormally tall and thin, the other short and stout. They reminded Claire of an American comic-paper she had once seen. Most of the village was there. Looking about, Claire could see a few of her former patients. But the inhabitants of the Castle were notably absent. 

A villager of Cranesmuir read out the dittay, or indictment, against the persons of one Geillis Duncan and one Claire Beauchamp, both accused before the Church’s court of the crime of witchcraft. The reading of the dittay went on for some time, stating evidence of fabricated and false accusations. After the reading Was finished, the witnesses were called. Most of them were villagers that Claire didn’t recognize.

While the testimony of many of the witnesses was simply absurd, and other witnesses had plainly been paid for their services, some had a clear ring of truth to their words. Janet Robinson was brought before the court by her father, pale and trembling with a purple bruise on her cheek, to confess that she had conceived a child by a married man, and sought to rid herself of it, through the potions of Geillis Duncan.  
“She gave me a draft to drink, and a charm to say three times, at the rising o’ the moon,” the girl mumbled, glancing fearfully from Geillis to her father.  
“She said ’twould bring my courses on.”  
“And did it?” the examiner asked with interest.  
“Not at the first, your honor,” the girl answered, bobbing her head nervously. “But I took the draft again, at the waning o’ the moon, and then it started.” The girl continued.  
“Started?! The lassie near bled to death!” An elderly lady, plainly the girl’s mother, broke in.  
“ ’Twas only because she felt herself to be dyin’ as she told me the truth o’ the matter.” More than willing to add to the gory details, Mrs. Robinson was quieted with some difficulty, in order to make way for the succeeding witnesses.

While no one claimed such accusations against Claire, there were several to say—truthfully—that they had seen Claire often in Mrs. Duncan’s herb room, mixing medicines and pounding herbs. There were an equal number of people to claim that Claire had healed them, using nothing more than ordinary medicines, with nothing in the way of spells. Claire’s feet were aching from standing so long; while the judges sat in relative comfort, no stools were provided for the prisoners. But when the next witness appeared, Claire entirely forgot about her feet.

With an instinct for drama that rivaled Colum’s, Father Bain flung wide the door of the kirk and emerged into the square, limping heavily on a crutch. He advanced slowly to the center of the square, inclined his head to the judges, then turned and surveyed the crowd, until his steely glare had reduced the noise to a low, uneasy muttering. When he spoke, his voice lashed out like the crack of a whip.  
“It’s a judgment on ye, ye folk o’ Cranesmuir! ‘Before him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth with his feet.’ Aye, ye’ve allowed yerselves to be seduced from the paths o’ righteousness! Ye’ve sown the wind, and the whirlwind’s amongst ye now!”

Claire’s face paled as she stared back with her mouth agape. The priest’s voice thundered on,  
“The pestilence will come upon ye, and ye shall die o’ your sins, unless ye be cleansed!” He turned to stare directly at Claire.  
“ Ye’ve sold your soul to your enemies, ye’ve taken the English viper to your bosom, and now the vengeance o’ the Lord God Almighty is on ye. ‘Deliver thee from the strange woman, even from the stranger that flattereth with her words. For her house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto the dead.’ Repent, people, before it’s too late! Fall to your knees, I say, and pray for forgiveness! Cast out the English whore, and renounce your bargain wi’ the spawn o’ Satan!”  
He snatched the rosary from his belt and brandished the large wooden crucifix in Claire’s direction.

“Er, your Reverence,” the judge said, with a slight bow in Father Bain’s direction, “have ye evidence to bring as to the charge regarding these women?”  
“That I have.” The first explosion of oratory spent, the little priest was calm now.  
“The woman tried to lure me wi’ her sinfulness, to go awa’ in private with her, and when I resisted her wiles, she cast a curse upon me.”  
“What bloody nonsense!” Claire said indignantly. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”  
“Do ye deny, woman, that ye said words to the laird to have me sent away from my parish?” He shouted.  
“Well, perhaps, something to that effect, but you were torturing a small village boy!” Claire admitted with anger.  
Jaw clenched in triumph, the priest whipped aside the skirts of his soutane. A bandage stained with dried blood and wet with yellow pus encircled his thigh and ominous red streaks extended up from the hidden wound.  
“You’ve got blood poisoning. You need it tended, and right now, or you’ll die!” Claire shouted shocked at the sight of the wound.  
There was a deep murmur of shock from the crowd. Father Bain shook his head slowly. “You hear?” he demanded. “The temerity of the woman kens nae bounds. She curses me wi’ death, a man of God, before the judgment seat of the kirk itself!”  
The excited murmuring of the crowd grew louder. Father Bain spoke again, raising his voice slightly in order to be heard over the noise.  
“I leave ye, gentlemen, wi’ the judgment o’ your own senses, and the injunction o’ the Lord—‘ Ye shallna suffer a witch to live!’

Father Bain’s dramatic evidence put a stop to the testimony. The judges called a short recess and were brought refreshments from the inn. No such amenities were forthcoming for the accused. Claire was preoccupied with growing fears, that she didn’t at first hear the hoofbeats. It was only as the faint murmurs and head-turnings of the crowd attracted Claire’s attention to the rider. Despite her earlier despair, she began to feel a faint flicker of illogical hope. _Jamie!_

The women were led off toward the inn between two burly townsmen. Claire glanced around anxiously, but could not see the mysterious rider. In a dark back room of the inn, the bonds on the women’s hands were at last removed and a candle brought. A maid then entered the room bearing a bottle of ale and a plate of meat and bread.  
“Geillis, who do you think that rider was—do you think Colum sent someone to help?” Claire asked hopefully.  
Geillis hesitated in her reply, “No,” she said bluntly.  
They were soon marched back out to the town square.  
“We find ourselves unable to determine guilt solely on the basis of the evidence presented.” The examiner announced.  
There was a burst of outrage from the crowd, which had made its own determination, but this was quelled by guards who turned their eyes and fists on the young workmen in the front row.  
“Conduct the prisoners to the loch side, if ye please.”  
There was a pleased sound of expectation at this that roused all of Claire’s worst fears. 

Guards grabbed Claire and Geillis by their arms, to steer them along, but they had plenty of help from the crowd. Vicious hands tore at the women’s gowns, pinching and pushing as they were dragged along. The procession flowed down the meadow to the edge of the loch, where a small wooden quay projected into the water.  
“Bring out the cords!” There was a general mutter and expectant looking around from one to another, until someone ran up hastily with a length of thin rope.  
“Wait!” Claire shouted. “Please, you cannot continue this trial! I must speak first with Laird MacKenzie!”  
The judge shrugged. “ ’Tis the proper procedure for trial by water. The suspected witch shall have the right thumb bound by a cord of hemp to the great toe of the left foot. Likewise, the left thumb shall be bound to the right great toe. And then …”  
He cast an eloquent glance at the waters of the loch. Two fishermen stood barefooted in the mud of the shore, trews rolled above their knees and tied with twine.  
“Upon entering the water,” the short judge chimed in, “a guilty witch will float, as the purity of the water rejects her tainted person. An innocent woman will sink.”  
“So I’ve the choice of being condemned as a witch or being found innocent but drowned, have I?” Claire screamed.  
“You’ll nae speak before this court without leave, woman! Do ye dare to refuse lawful examination?”  
“Do I dare refuse to be drowned? Too right I do!” Claire caught sight of Geillis, frantically shaking her head. Rough hands grabbed Claire as she yelled and kicked.  
“Let go of me, you bloody lout!” She screamed.  
Claire lost her breath as she was punched in her stomach and the men began to bind her with the rope. With her hands bound to her feet, Claire struggled and screamed as she was lowered into the loch. Claire was so stunned by the shock as her body hit the icy cold water that she could no longer cry out. She struggled against her restraints as her body began to sink like a rock. Water rushed into her nose and mouth as bubbles shot out of the bodice of her dress and rushed toward the surface above. The cotton fabric soaked through almost at once, and the freezing grip of the water paralyzed her breathing. 

Underwater, Claire could hear muffled shouts of the villagers. She pulled against the rope as she fought to keep her head above water while weight of her dress was quickly pulling her down. She managed to bring her face to the surface to get another breath of air.  
“Guilty! Burn the witch! Burn!” The shouts echoed through the crowd.  
Once more, Claire was submerged completely underwater. Her worst nightmares that plagued her youth were coming true... she was going to drown. She struggled vigorously in the water while desperately trying to hold her breath. With adrenaline pumping through her body and inhuman strength, Claire managed to raise her head above water to gasp once more for air. Then suddenly, she felt tension in the rope and she was being pulled out of the loch. Claire was violently coughing and her eyes were stinging just before she lost consciousness. 

Fergus and Lizzie both witnessed the trial in horror. Their hands were bound as they were forced to remain on the sidelines with guards to prevent their escape. They cried out in protest as the two judges declared the women guilty of witchcraft. Claire and Geillis were taken away as the villagers left the loch and prepared for the execution by fire. Silent tears fell down Fergus’ cheeks when he saw villagers building a pyre in the town square. A guard roughly grabbed Fergus’s arm.  
“Come along lad. Your trial is in the morning,” he grunted.  
Lizzie was pulled away in the opposite direction by another guard.  
“Fergus! No!” she cried as she was dragged away.  
The noise of the crowd was deafening as its frenzy reached a fever pitch, “Burn ’em! Burn ’em all!” The crowd’s hysteria was gaining momentum. The guard dragged Fergus to the back of a cart used to hold prisoners and pushed him inside and then locked him in.  
“You’ll be dealt with soon,” the burly man said as he went to join the other men attempting to control the village mob. 

“Milord, where are you?” Fergus whispered as he peeped around outside between the bars of his temporary prison. He suddenly gasped as he saw the two women in the distance, hands tied behind their backs with black hoods over their heads, being led to the pyre. The villagers cheered as Father Bain, with a lit torch in hand, was slowly making his approach to the town square. The priest was followed by other men with torches whom he instructed as they stood around the pyre. The priest dropped his torch at the women’s feet with a look of triumph as he bellowed words of scripture to the cheering villagers. The women’s screams were barely audible over the mob. Smoke filled the air as the small fire soon turned into a roaring blaze. The cheers of the villagers gradually silenced as the women began to burn in earnest and their screams were carried across the wind. Fergus whispered prayers in French as he turned away and closed his eyes. He could not bear watch his Mistress burn.

The night had come and gone and the sun was high in the skies when Jamie arrived at castle Leoch the next day. He was bone weary and had ridden hard without rest to the keep just in time for his wedding. He was still furious at Dougal for adding days to their trip just to bed a crofter’s daughter. After much delay, Jamie defiantly left the rent party in Dougal’s capable hands. Jamie would not be absent from his own wedding.

In the courtyard, there were a dozen MacKenzie warriors preparing horses and mounting up. Jamie saw Colum standing with several men giving instructions. Jamie became alarmed as he quickly rode over to his uncle.  
“My laird,” Jamie said looking around at the men with curiosity. “Where are the riders off to this morning?”  
Colum saw his nephew approaching on horseback and silently cursed. He had hoped to resolve this matter before Jamie returned to the keep.  
“Jamie, lad! Good morrow. These riders... ‘Tis naught to worry. There was some trouble in the village yesterday. My men will handle it.” Colum said calmly.  
“What kind of trouble, my Laird?” Jamie asked curiously.  
“Naught that I willna handle,” Colum snapped.  
“Verra well,” Jamie replied. “I will pay a visit to my betrothed. I trust she’s been taken care of in my absence?” Jamie said as he dismounted and began to lead his horse to the stables.  
“Jamie! Wait!” Colum called. “There is something ye must know. We canna find Claire in the Keep. I suspect that she has been taken by the villagers.”  
“Taken? What do ye mean, taken!” Jamie shouted. He looked at his Uncle in shock and clenched his jaw and his fists in an attempt to control his rising temper.  
“There was a trial yesterday and a mob in the village. Some women have been accused of witchcraft. I believe there’s an insolent priest, Father Bain, who is responsible. I am sending my men now to release the women and to take the priest prisoner,” Colum explained. His face was visibly red with anger.  
Without another word, Jamie mounted his horse and rode out of the gates of Leoch to the village.  
Colum cursed. “Rupert!” He bellowed. “Rupert! Where the devil are ye!” Rupert took his time answering his brother’s call.  
“Rupert! Go after Jamie, now! Stop him before he murders every last villager!” Colum ordered.  
Rupert’s face perked up at the suggestion of bloodshed, and he quickly mounted his horse and rode out after Jamie.  
Colum shook his head and cursed. He continued to prepare his men for the village. By nightfall, the priest would be locked in his dungeon.

Jamie rode like the devil into the town of Cranesmuir with Rupert not far behind. Jamie could only think of Claire. There would be hell to pay for any harm that befell his wife. He galloped like a madman into the town and saw a crowd of villagers in the main square. He slowed his horse and dismounted leaving his horse tied to a post on the side of a building. He unsheathed his claymore and ran swiftly up to the crowd. 

Jamie was an intimidating presence as he forcefully pushed his way through the men and women, claymore in hand, shoving them violently to either side of him as he approached the center platform erected in the town square. There he saw Fergus, who was held by two guards, as a third guard brought down an axe to cut off his left hand. Fergus screamed in agony.  
“Fergus!” Jamie screamed as he jumped on the platform and, with one powerful thrust, ran his claymore through the axe wielding guard’s belly. The guard screamed violently before falling backwards gasping as he died on the platform. The crowd of villagers screamed while others still cheered at this display of violence. Another guard lunged at Jamie and he dodged the man’s blade as he ran his own bloodied sword across the guard’s neck quickly killing the man. Then, in the crowd, Jamie spotted Rupert.  
“Rupert! Kill them! Kill them all!” Jamie screamed as he sparred with the last guard on the platform and then quickly disposing of him as well. “Kill them Rupert!” He screamed.  
Rupert unsheathed his sword and ran it through the village man standing next to him. Panic ensued and the rest of the villagers began to flee the square as Rupert turned his claymore on all who had gathered to witness the trial.

“Who are you? How dare ye to interfere wi’ the judgements of the court? You will be dealt with presently for murder!” The tall, lanky judge yelled glaring at Jamie as he approached them.  
“Do ye dare to draw arms against the justice of God?” snapped the plump, shorter judge.  
Jamie walked over to the table where the judges presided and drew his sword completely. With a flash of steel, he then thrust it point-first into the tall lanky examiner, leaving the man quivering in shock with the force of the blow.  
The short plump judge blinked once or twice completely stunned as he relieved himself in his trews. Jamie forcibly grabbed the shorter man and dragged him off the platform leaving the other judge slumped across the table to die. He dragged the stout examiner to the center of the square where other MacKenzie warriors were now approaching.  
“You have no place in the workings o’ this court, sir! I’ll demand that ye surrender at once!” The judge shouted fearfully without conviction as Jamie dragged his rotund body to his warriors.  
“Take him to the Keep! He’s my prisoner now!” Jamie shouted to his warriors as he shoved the judge into their custody.  
He then quickly made his way to Fergus who was unconscious and bleeding.  
“Help me!” Jamie shouted to his men.  
Hamish ran up to him quickly. He looked at Fergus in fear. He was losing a lot of blood.  
“Quickly, give me something to staunch the bleeding.” Jamie ordered. Hamish ripped off his sark and they tied off Fergus’ arm.  
“Ye must take to the keep now, lad... and have Mistress FitzGibbons cauterize the wound.”  
Jamie carried Fergus to Hamish’s horse and placed the unconscious boy over the saddle. Hamish mounted the horse behind Fergus, and while holding his limp body on the horse, rode off to the Keep.

Jamie spotted Rupert who was wiping blood off his face. He walked over to his uncle while looking around the town square. Half a dozen bodies lay dead on the ground.  
Rupert looked up at Jamie and smiled. Jamie’s eyes were crazed with bloodlust. “It’s verra good to see ye back to your old self in fighting form!” Rupert said. He missed the days of raiding and fighting beside his nephew. These days Jamie mostly cried and made himself a fool over a Sassenach.  
“Have the men build a pyre and burn the dead. We’ve taken the judge prisoner. I’m going to find the priest. Kill anyone who interferes,” Jamie commanded.  
“Aye,” Rupert said enthusiastically and set to work.

Jamie walked over to the table where the judges sat on the platform and picked up the dead judge’s body and tossed him off the platform onto the street. He could burn with the others. He then went back to the table and took their papers from the trial.  
He looked around but could see no sign of Claire. Behind the platform he saw two large wooden boxes.  
“Angus!” He called to his warrior who was dragging a limp body to where the pyre was being built.  
“Leave it! Come with me,” Jamie shouted.  
Angus dropped the body and walked with Jamie behind the platform to the wooden boxes.  
“What do ye suppose is in there?” Angus asked. The boxes were a bit too small to be coffins, but the accompanying odor that drifted from them suggested otherwise.  
“I dinna ken,” Jamie said. “Open it.”  
The boxes were nailed shut. Angus took his sword and shoved the blade under the lid and used it as leverage to force the wooden crate open. When the box was opened, they both stepped back from the odor. Inside were the charred remains of a body. There was a pile of bones surrounded by mostly ash and some decomposed parts. Jamie turned away in disgust.  
“Open the other one,” he ordered. Jamie was beginning to shake all over. Angus opened the other box which contained the remains of another body.  
Jamie quickly looked away. “Claire!” Jamie yelled. His eyes darted around the village and he ran toward the town square. “Claire!” He screamed out around him. “Claire!” She had to be here somewhere in the village.  
Angus came up behind him. “Jamie, my lord, wait...” he said.  
“Angus! Find me a villager who witnessed the trial! I must ken who was burned in the pyre!” Jamie yelled.  
Jamie then took out the papers he tucked away that he’d taken from the judges. He read the indictment accusing the persons of one Geillis Duncan and one Claire Beauchamp of the crime of witchcraft. He quickly skimmed through the other papers, citing evidence from Father Bain and others. Jamie’s eyes widened and his temper flared when he saw another familiar name who gave evidence on the indictment; Laoghaire McKibbons. Jamie sifted through the papers and finally found the examiner’s verdict; guilty.  
Jamie dropped to his knees. “No, not Claire...” he said in shock. Tears fell from his eyes.  
Claire and Geillis had been burned in the pyre and it was their remains in the boxes. He was too late.  
Jamie rose with fury and shouted instructions to several men to find Father Bain. He then helped the rest of his men dragging the dead bodies to the pyre which was now being lit.

Angus approached him with a fearful looking woman.  
“My lord, this woman was witness to the trial yesterday,” he said.  
The small woman twisted her thin hands together, working them nervously under her apron.  
“We watched the trial yesterday, sir. The judges were no’ able to find guilt, so they declared a trial by water and taken to the loch. The women were found guilty of witchcraft. They built a pyre here in the square... We watched the witches burn and when the dark came, and the flames went down and there was naught but ash and smoking embers,” the woman explained trembling through tears.  
Jamie fought to control his own emotions.  
He grabbed the woman’s arm, “My wife is no’ a witch.” He choked out. He then released his grip of the fearful woman and shoved her aside in disgust.  
“Angus, see to it that the boxes are taken to Leoch. Claire.... Claire will have a proper burial,” he managed to say then turned and walked slowly away.  
Jamie went to find his horse as the tears he fought rolled down his cheeks. He needed to get back to Leoch to see to Fergus. God willing, he would not lose the boy too.

As he rode out of the town, Jamie once again spotted Rupert. He rode over to his Uncle who was gathering men to search outside the town for Father Bain.  
“Bring me the priest... Alive!” Jamie growled. “I will deal with him. The priest is mine!”


	27. Justice Will Be Served

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie mourns Claire, Father Bain and Laoghaire must answer to Colum, Colum serves justice, Father Bain reveals a secret....
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is a bit long... but I wanted to end it at a specific point

When Jamie returned to Leoch, he locked himself in Claire’s bedchamber to greet. He sat in the room bereft for hours while staring at Claire’s wedding gown which was hanging by a mirror. The sight of the dress pulled at him like barbed hooks in his chest. He remembered the dance they had had on the night of the Ball and how beautiful Claire looked.  
“I wish they had killed me.” He whispered.  
“I should be dead now.”  
Jamie’s underlying fear, that one day Claire would be taken from him, had come to fruition. It would have been better if he died than to live a life without love or joy or even hope. Jamie cried himself to sleep in Claire’s bed clinging to the linens that still held her scent.

In the middle of the night, Jamie awoke from his sleep to Claire calling for him.  
“Jamie! Jamie, help me!” Claire cried.  
Jamie sat up in the bed. “Claire!” He cried and quickly jumped out of the bed. He dressed and left the room and frantically roamed the dark halls of the Keep in search of her voice. The castle was silent though. He continued to wander through the castle, but he heard no sounds or cries.  
“It must have been a dream,” he whispered.  
Finding himself wide awake, Jamie went to the library. He poured himself a whiskey and drank alone in silence. He sat for a long time drinking in the dark until the bottle was empty. He left the library and found himself descending the stairs to the lower chambers. Jamie continued down to the lower levels of the keep until he reached the dungeon. A guard slept sitting against the locked door of the cellar. Jamie kicked the guard forcibly.  
“Wake up, man! Give me the keys... Laird’s orders!” He commanded.  
The guard jumped up. He was stunned to be awoken by the Laird’s nephew and nervously handed him the keys. Jamie unlocked the cellar door and walked through the dungeon to the holding cells reserved for prisoners. He unlocked door and entered the cell that held the portly judge that condemned his wife to death. 

In the dark damp cell, Jamie gazed upon the stout judge who killed his wife. The man was lying on the filthy stone floor covered in some hay. He walked closer to him and the man’s eyes suddenly opened.  
“No! Please... doona hurt me!” He begged.  
Jamie kneeled down and punched the man square in the face. He heard a crunch as his fist pounded into the man. Blood sprang from the judge’s face as he screamed. “Ahhhh! You’ve broken my nose!” He cried out as he cupped his face.  
Jamie punched the man again in his bloated gut.  
“Ooooh!” He bellowed as he curled into a ball on the floor. “Please, have mercy on me! I am a justice of God! Have mercy!” He pleaded.  
“Mercy!” Jamie spat out. “Where was your mercy when you murdered my wife! A witch ye say?” Jamie yelled as he lunged at the man again and heard a crack as his fist met his jaw.  
“Ye would kill a woman as beautiful as my Claire and call yourself a justice of God! I will show ye justice!” Jamie pummeled the man again.  
The judge was bleeding profusely and gasped in pain. “Mercy! I beg for mercy. I didna kill your wife. She lives! I swear on the holy bible the woman lives. She was taken by the English. I swear to ye!” He croaked.  
“You would say anything to save your life now, wouldn’t ye?” Jamie asked coldly and punched the man again.  
“Nay!” The judge cried. “He paid us in coin! We burned the other lass!”  
“Liar! I saw two bodies wi’ my own eyes!” Jamie shouted and punched the man again. He continued to beat the man until his body was still and limp sprawled on the ground. Jamie checked his breath. “He still breathes,” Jamie grunted and walked out of the cell and locked the door. He made his way back to Claire’s chamber to once again bury himself in the sheets that still carried the scent of her. 

The next morning, Jamie joined his uncles in the Great Hall to break his fast.  
“What happened to your hand, Jamie?” Colum asked coolly noticing Jamie’s bruised knuckles.  
“Just a wee disagreement between myself and a justice of our lord almighty... God,” Jamie said sardonically.  
“Would it be the same judge who was found dead in his cell by a servant this morning?” Colum replied.  
“What’s become of us? We canna kill a man any more?” Dougal barked at Colum.  
Dougal had just arrived back to Leoch and was in a black mood having missed the previous day’s events. The rumors were already flying through the castle—Jamie ran his claymore through a judge in the midst of a trial... Rupert killed 10 men at once—It went on and on. Leoch had not had so much excitement since the Gathering.  
Colum stared icily back at his brother. “It will take a lot of coin to bribe the Courts of Justice at Inverness to keep the MacKenzies from being impeached and convicted of murder.”  
“And I thought you would be pleased, my Laird, to see our Jamie is back to his old self. And to think we once worried his tender feelings for the Sassenach would turn him soft... like a woman,” Dougal replied with a grin.  
“You may be my uncle,” Jamie said very quietly staring at Dougal. His eyes were red-rimmed and burning. “But watch your tongue. You’re a bonny swordsman, but you’re no match for me!”  
Jamie then stood and and left. As he exited the Great Hall, Jamie grabbed the end of a large buffet table and, with a battle cry, flipped it over sending platters full of food, pitchers and cups flying as they crashed to the floor. He then kicked over and crushed several wooden chairs furiously as murmurs and gasps echoed among all those witnessing the spectacle.  
Colum looked at Dougal. “He’s out of his head,” the old Laird commented.  
“From the moment he saw that cursed girl, he’s been cunt struck and possessed. He has no other women... no trips to pay court to the harlots of Edinburgh. I barely ken the lad,” Dougal replied.  
“He’ll recover,” Colum said. “And he’ll cool. He’ll cool when he joins with the Prince and has a few women and gets the taste of battle. That’s all Jamie needs. He’ll forget her then and be himself again.”  
“Maybe,” Dougal said softly. “Maybe. I hope you’re right, Brother.”

Jamie left the Hall to see how Fergus was healing. Jamie entered his room quietly and found Mrs. FitzGibbons sitting next to Fergus wiping his forehead with a cloth. His eyes were closed and his face was pale and flat. Jamie was unaccustomed to seeing Fergus without his usual boyish smile.  
“How is he?” Jamie asked softly as he approached the bed.  
“He’s not fevered, and there’s no trace of rot yet in the”—she swallowed audibly— “in the … stump.” she said.  
Jamie sat at the foot of the bed and the boy’s eyes opened at once.  
“Milord,” Fergus said, and a weak smile restored his face at once to its familiar contours.  
“God, laddie, I’m sorry.” Jamie said. He could scarcely bear to look at the slender forearm that lay across the quilt, its bandaged wrist ending in nothing.  
“Does it hurt much?” he asked.  
“No, milord,” Fergus said. Then a sudden twinge of pain crossed his features, and he added, “Well, not so much. And Madame has been most generous with the whisky.”  
There was a tumbler full of it on the sidetable, but not much had been drunk. Fergus, weaned on French wine, did not really like the taste of whisky.  
“I’m sorry,” Jamie said again. There was nothing else to say. Nothing he could say, for the tightening in his throat.  
“Ah, milord, do not trouble yourself.” There was a note of sadness in Fergus’s voice. “Milady.... I tried to save her... I....”  
“Fergus, it wasna your fault, I should have been there,” Jamie said watching the boy’s eyes fill with tears. Jamie looked hastily down, knowinpg that it would upset Fergus more to see him weep. “I’m sorry you were hurt Fergus.”  
“Me, I have been fortunate.” the boy said.  
Jamie swallowed hard before replying.  
“Aye, you’re alive—and thank God for it!”  
“Oh, beyond that, milord!” He glanced up to see Fergus smiling, though still very pale. “Do you not recall our agreement, milord?”  
“Agreement?”  
“If I should lose an ear or a hand while doing your service—”  
p “I would support you for the rest of your life.” Jamie was unsure whether to laugh or cry, and contented himself with patting the hand that now lay quiet on the quilt. “Aye, I remember. You may trust me to keep the bargain.”  
“Oh, I have always trusted you, milord,” Fergus assured him. He was growing tired; the pale cheeks were even whiter than they had been.  
“So I am fortunate,” he murmured, still smiling.  
“For in one stroke, I have become a man of leisure, non?”

Three days later a funeral was held for Claire and Geillis in the same church where Jamie and Claire were to be married. The mourners included not only the inhabitants of castle Leoach, but also the Frasers of Broch Tuarach as well most of the local noble families that had attended Jamie’s engagement ball. After the ceremony, Jamie took his sister aside for a few words. Jenny was the only person with whom he could share his grief.  
“I’m so sorry... How are ye, brother?” Jenny asked sympathetically.  
“My life,” Jamie said to her, “is over. I shall never marry. I only want to live for the sake of you and Father. I am as happy now as I will ever be. When they killed Claire, they also killed me.”  
“Oh Jamie... don’t break your heart like that! Ach, now, for the love of God, ye’ll be ill if ye continue to grieve so,” Jenny said softly taking his hand.  
Jamie nodded. “I prepared a trunk for you to take back to Broch Tuarach. It contains all of Claire’s dresses and... mother’s emerald necklace. Will ye keep it safe for me, Jenny?” He asked as silent tears ran down his face. Jamie had carefully packed away Claire’s wedding dress and her other finery as well as his mother’s jewels. He wanted to save what was left of her.  
“Of course I will!” Jenny said as she hugged her brother. Although she was not fond of Claire, she would never wish such a cruel death on the poor lass.

The next morning Jamie was making preparations to take more riders out to search for Father Bain when Rupert and his men returned to Leoch with the priest in their custody. Colum ordered the priest to be locked in the dungeon with four guards to keep watch on his cell. Not a single soul was allowed visitation with the priest before his trial in the Great Hall. Shortly after the priest was confined to his prison, Jamie was summoned to the Laird’s library.

“My Laird, you summoned me?” Jamie asked.  
“Yes, Jamie, please be seated.” Colum said and poured them each a whiskey. “Have a dram with me.”  
Jamie accepted the drink and quickly swallowed the entire contents of the glass. He stared at his uncle expectantly.  
“I want ye to know Jamie, that my brothers and I sympathize with your loss” Colum said.  
Jamie raised a dubious eyebrow.  
Colum cleared his throat. “I sympathize. I was fond of the lass. It was no’ always so and that changed after she saved my life. But from the misery in your heart, I doubt you had that sense.”  
“Thank you Uncle... I’m glad _you’re_ no’ celebrating her death unlike your brothers,” Jamie said bitterly.  
Colum suddenly became irritated. That damned priest! He killed the Sassenach and thus ruined his nephew. Between Jamie, Dougal and Rupert, Jamie was his favourite if he were honest, for he found Rupert too stupid and brutish and Dougal too sinister. Colum was not deceived by Jamie’s silence nor by the aggressive way in which he answered even the simplest question. Jamie was a man now fighting the world and himself with it.  
“Jamie, I ken you want justice. Now that we have Father Bain, we will have a trial in the Great Hall in two days time.” Colum explained. “However, after the trial, the priest will be released to the authorities in Inverness where he will face punishment for his crimes.”  
Jamie stood. “Released! Nay! He canna be released. The priest will die burning just like my wife!” He shouted as he pounded his fist on the table knocking his whiskey glass to the floor.  
“I’m sorry, nephew. After your raid of the village, we risk formal complaint in Edinburgh, and possibly the crown. We will have an trial in the Great Hall, where our men can voice their grievances and inflict a light punishment upon the priest.... 20 lashes, ” Colum stated firmly.  
“The hell you say!” Jamie shouted.  
Colum was suddenly so irritated with his nephew he could have struck him. The itch to fight was on him; Colum could see it in his eyes. Jamie reminded him of some tethered beast of prey straining against his chains.  
“Good Christ! Dinna lose your head! No’ when there are plenty o’ other Scottish lasses available! You _will_ find another wife that suits ye! We must do now what is best for the MacKenzie clan! The priest will be turned over to answer for the mob and the murders of the villagers! No’ to mention the murder of two judges! Perhaps ye would like to turn yourself in instead?” He shouted. “You and Rupert behaved like savages, in front of an entire village! Hundreds of witnesses! The entirety of this castle canna stop their tongues from wagging. I know you are angry, but I dinna know ye were daft!” Colum boomed.  
Jamie was silent for a long moment and then finally shrugged. “Here are the papers from Claire’s trial. It has the list of witnesses who brought evidence against Claire.” Jamie said as he tossed the papers onto Colum’s desk.  
Colum examined the papers with keen interest.  
“You’ll see the familiar name of a scullery maid in the list of witnesses. I believed she aided Father Bain in luring Claire out of the castle to be arrested. I ask that she should stand trial,” Jamie said icily.  
Colum sat back and sighed. “I will see to it that justice is served.”  
Jamie rose. “I’ll take my leave then. And uncle, dinna forget that Fergus... a MacKenzie... lost his hand protecting Claire. The boy is lucky to be alive. See to it that justice is served to him as well!” Jamie spat angrily as he left the room.

The Great Hall had been transformed for the hearing. The tables, benches, and stools were all pushed back against the walls, and the head table on the dais was removed and replaced by a substantially large, carved, dark wooden chair where Colum was already seated. To Colum’s right sat Dougal and Rupert in two smaller chairs and to his left remained one empty chair. Although it was still early, there was an excited stir throughout the hall which was quickly filling with spectators. 

Jamie entered the Great Hall just as a young piper began a set behind the empty chair on the dais. He walked up and bowed to his Uncles and then took the empty seat to Colum’s left. Jamie gazed around the room and noticed most of the MacKenzie warriors were already present, along with the castle’s staff and other inhabitants. Some of the villagers from Cranesmuir mingled through the crowd with more villagers pushing their way into the stuffy and crowded room. While the Laird regularly dispensed justice to his tacksmen and tenants, hearing cases and settling disputes, the proceedings never had more than 30 or 40 people present. There was already over 100 people gathered in the Great Hall for Father Bain’s trial; this would be a spectacle indeed.

There was only one agenda in the Great Hall this morning. A balding scribe read out the name of one Father Bain, for false accusations and indictment, inciting a village riot, the murder of two justices, and improperly consorting with young women. Excited murmurs stirred through the hall as two muscular MacKenzie guards stepped forward dragging the portly priest into the clear space.  
“Father Bain!” Colum thundered in the hall. “You have been accused of the crime of treason against your Laird and your clan!  
“My Laird! I am a man of God! We must all repent for ye’ve welcomed the whore of Babylon into yer midst—“ Father Bain cried.  
“Silence!” Colum interrupted. “I shall now hear the evidence.”  
Father Bain was restrained by the guards as one by one witnesses came forth to give their testimony against the priest. Every villager in Cranesmuir had witnessed Father Bain light the pyre that burned both Claire and Geillis. They also gave detailed account of the priest inciting a riot in the village which resulted in the ‘accidental death’ of the two ecclesiastical examiners from Inverness. The crowd became restless and several men began to shout out when two village women came forth and charged the priest with rape. One of the women held a small bairn in her arms and claimed it was Father Bain’s bastard. The soft murmurs that resonated through the crowd soon became and loud roar as the bystanders all began talking and shouting at once. 

As Colum rose from his chair, the crowd hushed and the Great Hall became eerily quiet. The testimony had been damning indeed, and by the sentiments echoed from the spectators, it was overwhelmingly evident that all believed the priest to be guilty. The Laird looked around the room and nodded as he decided with the crowd; guilty.  
“Let it be known that The MacKenzie doesna approve of these indecencies to be inflicted on this clan!” Colum announced to his captivated audience.  
The two guards brought Father Bain to the center of the room before Colum and the Laird held up his hand.  
“Punishment by fists!” Colum cried out as excitement rippled through the crowd accompanied by cheers of approval. The two guards released Father Bain and Colum then motioned to Jamie to execute the punishment.

Jamie stepped down from the dais. He stood before the priest and immediately drove his fist into Father Bain’s abdomen, doubling him up and driving his breath out with a gasp. Jamie waited for the priest to straighten up before moving in and administering a series of sharp jabs to the ribs and arms. Father Bain made no effort to defend himself, merely shifting his balance to remain upright in the face of the assault.

Jamie delivered the next blow to the face and the priest’s head rocked back. Jamie took his time between blows, careful not to knock the priest down or strike too many times in one spot. One of the priest’s eyes was swelled shut and he was breathing heavily, but he still managed to stand. Jamie then drew back and let fly a massive blow; Father Bain staggered and fell to his knees. The two guards hurried forward to pull him to his feet, and as he raised his head, Jamie threw another blow and the priest’s battered mouth was now dripping with blood. The spectators burst into cheers, and Dougal and Rupert pulled Jamie away in fear he might kill the priest with another blow.

The two guards held the priest, supporting him as he shook his head to clear it, and led the man out of the Great Hall. The priest’s bleeding lips moved painfully as he recited scriptures while the guards dragged him through the crowd of angry spectators.  
Jamie turned to Colum. “Thank you,” he said, looking completely bereft, and bowed formally to the old Laird before turning to leave.  
“Nephew, wait!” Colum called out. “Meet me in the dungeon in an hour. We are no’ finished yet.” He explained quickly and then instructed the guards to clear the hall. The trial was officially over.

Jamie entered the dark cellar and noticed the light at the far end where a pair of resin torches blazed in their sconces against the wall. He walked down the hall came upon a room with more torches lit that illuminated the figure of the priest fastened to the back wall with his arms outstretched.  
A few feet away, a man bent over a large metal stove with white-hot coals, where an branding iron and and a set of metal tongs were heating. There were other instruments close at hand; a device for crushing the fingers, a cross-shaped stretcher festooned with ropes and pulleys where the obdurate were racked until every joint was dislocated in their bodies, and the scourges and pincers which were the ordinary tools of the professional torturer.

At the back of the small cellar, Colum was seated comfortably on a chair where he could watch the proceedings. Jamie walked in and took a seat next to his uncle who looked uncharacteristically cheerful.  
“Ah, Jamie! Just in time lad! We were just about to begin.” Colum said gruffly.  
“Begin? I didna ken you meant to torture the priest! I would be satisfied enough with a quick death by my hand.” Jamie replied staring at the sweaty priest. His head was slumped forward and he appeared to be unconscious.  
“Torture? Ach! No. We must deliver him to Inverness for the murder of the judges.” Colum informed him.  
“So why do ye appear to be preparing to torture the priest then?” Jamie asked curiously.  
“Listen Jamie, the priest has already heard too many damning confession over the years. We canna have him wagging his tongue in front of the magistrates. We must protect the clan. Logan will remove the priest’s tongue,” Colum said nodding to the man preparing the hot irons.  
“Och! Uncle, I dinna care for this.” Jamie said irritably as he began to stand.  
Colum gave Jamie a cold glance as he grabbed his arm.  
“Stay.” He ordered. “This must be done to protect you and the clan. Now you ken what it means to be Laird. And there’s another that must be dealt with. No’ just the priest.” He looked up at the large muscular man who was preparing the irons.  
“Logan! Go bring me the lass!” Colum commanded.

Jamie watched as the man left the room. He was not a guard he had seen before, and his muscular flesh was indented with deep scars that suggested the man had once survived torture himself.  
“What lass?” Jamie asked. Just then he heard familiar cries echoing through the hallway that got louder until Logan reappeared in the room with Laoghaire. Her eyes were red brimmed and her face stained with tears. She continued to cry as Colum instructed his man to chain her to the opposite wall.  
“James!” She cried. “James, help me!”  
“What is the meaning of this?” Jamie asked completely shocked. He looked at Laoghaire who was still crying out.  
“James! It wasna me! I didna do it James! Please, I love ye! James!  
“Did ye no’ ask for justice?” Colum asked coldly.  
“Aye! But I meant in the hall. Perhaps 10 lashes. No’ torture!” Jamie said exasperated.  
“Be that as it may, you asked for justice. How can I punish a lass when she’s expecting a bairn,” Colum remarked.  
“She’s... with bairn?” Jamie croaked out. His throat suddenly felt dry.  
“Aye! And she claims it’s your bairn!” Colum replied.  
“Nay!” Jamie growled. “She lies.”  
“Aye!” Colum agreed. “Now then, we will see to it that the lass canna lie ever again. It was her lies that killed your betrothed.” Colum motioned to Logan to begin the procedure.

Logan strapped Laoghaire’s head to the wall as she continued to scream.  
“Please! No! Jaaaaames!” She screamed.  
Logan approached the girl carrying a metal hook hanging from a long chord. He opened her jaw forcibly and secured the hook onto her lower jaw and tied chord around a large bent nail in the stone wall with enough tension to keep her mouth wide open.  
Laoghaire continued to shriek even though she could no longer form words.  
Father Bain regained consciousness upon hearing the the girl’s screams and began gasping and praying out loud.  
Colum handed Jamie his leather flask.  
“Whiskey?” He offered.  
Jamie grabbed the flask and took a copious swig appreciating the burn in his throat as he watched Logan grab the metal tongs off the hot coals and once again face the girl. 

The man grabbed Laoghaire’s tongue in between the red hot tongs and she shrieked in agony as the burning metal sunk into her soft flesh. He then began to slowly turn and tighten the screw on the opposite end of the instrument which compressed the girl’s tongue tightly in between the searing flat irons.  
Laoghaire’s eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness from the pain. Logan took a another blade and carefully cut away the dead burnt flesh and removed the metal tongs placing them back on the hot coals. He took another small hot iron and cauterized the wound before removing the hook from her mouth and closing her jaw.  
“See?” Colum said. “A lesser man would’ve just ripped her tongue out of her mouth, but Logan has a care. Dinna fash! The lass is sure to have better prospects for marriage now.”  
“I’ve seen enough Uncle. This is no’ what I had in mind, I—“  
“Sit! We’re no’ finished yet! This is no’ only justice for you, but for my clan! We’ve too many insolent lasses that canna clapper their face. As Laird I must protect the clan. She will be an example for others. Remember this Jamie... as Laird you may be loved, but ye _must_ be feared as well!” Colum said firmly.  
“Milord?” Logan interrupted.  
“The priest!” Colum commanded.  
“I am a man of God,” Father Bain whispered. His head was rolling around and he appeared to be half in and half out of consciousness.  
Logan took a strap and began to secure his head.  
“Please! My laird, I’m innocent,” Father Bain begged.  
“You murdered my nephew’s betrothed. Dozens of witnesses saw ye light the pyre, Father Bain,” Colum said irritably. “You made a mistake no’ leaving MacKenzie lands when ye were ordered!”  
“Nay! I didna kill the MacKenzie bride! She lives! I swear it!” Father Bain shrieked.  
“Logan... unman the priest.... then remove his tongue,” Colum ordered.  
Logan grabbed a knife as Father Bain continued to cry out.  
“We didna kill your Mistress! The English wanted her! They sold her to the English! I swear on the Holy Bible!” the priest continued to rant.  
“We had the remains of 2 bodies. Claire Beauchamp and Geillis Duncan.” Colum replied.  
Logan approached the priest with a hot iron.  
“Have mercy!!! I’m innocent! They put her maid on the pyre! No’ your Mistress! She didna burn!” He begged.  
Logan stepped forward as Father Bain screamed.  
Jamie stood and jumped up between the two men. He stood inches away from Father Bain and gripped the priest’s face while looking at him dead in the eye.  
“Did ye sell Claire to the English?” He demanded.  
“Nay, no’ me... the judges. They placed Mistress Beauchamp into the Redcoat’s custody... He wanted her ... they were paid in coin!” he spat out desperately.  
“What was the officer’s name!” Jamie shouted.  
“I dinna ken... I overheard they were taking her to Wentworth Prison,” he gasped.  
“And the two bodies? The women that were burned?”  
“Mistress Duncan and Mistress Beauchamp’s chamber maid. I didna ken her name,” the priest continued.  
Jamie was stunned as backed away from the priest. For the first time in days he felt a small ray of hope. The priest told the same story as the judge. Claire is alive!  
“Settle down Jamie. Dinna believe the lies of a desperate man trying to save himself,” Colum said irritably. “Logan... carry on!”  
Jamie immediately turned and fled the dungeon. He could hear Father Bain’s cries echo through the walls as Logan removed his manhood. He ran through the Keep like a madman. He needed to learn every last detail of Claire’s trial.

Jamie entered the Fergus’s chambers quietly. He was napping peacefully as Jamie sat down on the side of his bed. He rubbed a palm gently over the boy’s dark hair. Fergus slowly opened his eyes.  
“Milord,” he whispered.  
“How are ye feeling, laddie?” Jamie asked gently.  
“I’m better. Mistress FitzGibbons said I’m not fevered.”  
“I’m glad for that. I need to ask ye a few questions.” Jamie said with uncertainty. He didn’t want to upset the boy.  
“Oui, Milord,” Fergus replied sitting up more.  
“Where is Lizzie?” Jamie asked.  
Fergus perked up. “Lizzie? You did not find her?” Fergus asked looking visibly alarmed.  
“Nay. I need to know what happened during the trial.”  
“Lizzie was with me. We were kept prisoner while we watched the trial. When the trial was over... a guard took her away. I was put back in thieve’s hole that night and was tried in the morning for assaulting the guards when you rescued me,” Fergus explained. “They cut off my hand for punching a guard.”  
Jamie gently touched his injured arm. “What ye did was very brave, Fergus. I’m verra proud of you.” Jamie said.  
Fergus looked back at him with watering eyes. “So you didn’t find Lizzie?” He asked.  
“Nay. Dinna fash yourself, lad. We will find her,” Jamie said firmly. They sat quietly for a moment and then Jamie took a deep breath. He did not want to ask the next question.  
“Lad, did ye see the burning... Mistress Duncan and Claire?” He asked cautiously.  
“Oui, Milord. They brought them to the pyre and tied them down. I saw the priest light the fire and heard their screams. When the fire got too big I... I looked away. I couldn’t watch Milady,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m sorry Milord!”  
Jamie leaned down and hugged Fergus.  
“It’s no’ your fault, lad,” Jamie whispered. Jamie then sat up.  
“Fergus, I must ken what ye saw that day,”  
“They... the judges accused Milady and Mistress Duncan of witchcraft. Geillis said in the hole she thought Colum was punishing her for a potion she gave a woman who was with child to... start her courses...”  
Jamie put his hand to his forehead and sighed.  
“Milord?”  
“It was no’ Colum that put ye in the hole. Continue Fergus... What about the trial?”  
“Well, they did not have any evidence against Milady... except for the priest who called her an English whore. So they took Milady to the loch and bound her hands and feet together. The tossed her in the loch... and... she didn’t sink! Me and Lizzie cried because we were certain she would drown... but she didn’t drown! She kept coming back up for air! It was a miracle! ” Fergus explained with his eyes shining.  
“And then what happened?” Jamie asked.  
“Oui,” Fergus sighed sadly. “A guard grabbed Lizzie and another guard grabbed me and put me in a holding cell. I could see Mistress Duncan and Milady walking to the pyre. They had their hands bound and black hoods over their head. They lit the pyre.... and then...” Fergus trailed off.  
“They had black hoods over their head? Did you see them put the hood over Claire’s head?” Jamie asked frantically.  
“Oui... no... They had black hoods but... I didn’t see them put the hood on Milady.” Fergus replied bewildered.  
“Thank you, laddie. I must leave ye now. I’m going away, and I dinna ken when I will be back.” Jamie said running his hands once more through the boy’s hair.  
“Milord? Where are-“ Fergus asked.  
“Dinna fash lad,” Jamie interrupted. “I will be back soon. Save your strength and get well,” Jamie said and quickly left the boy’s room.  
He walked through the Keep in haste. If Claire had been captured by the English, there was no time to lose. It was almost a sennight since she’s was gone. He hoped he wasn’t too late. He had to speak with his godfather, Murtagh. 

Jamie found his godfather in the Great Hall, gambling with some of the MacKenzie men and villagers. He was losing badly and already deep in his cups.  
“Jamie, lad! Have a dram with me! I ken ye could use one after pummeling that arsehole priest!” He exclaimed as the other men around him laughed.  
“May he rot in hell!” A village man exclaimed.  
“Ye did some good today, lad,” another man said slapping Jamie on the back.  
“Murtagh, I must speak with ye!” Jamie cried.  
“Aye?” He replied lifting an eyebrow.  
“In private... Now?” Jamie asked urgently.  
Murtagh slowly rose from the table eyeing Jamie suspiciously as he followed him into an empty hallway.  
“Murtagh, I was just in the dungeon with Colum. He tortured the priest... I... well, Claire’s alive!” Jamie explained.  
“Alive?” Murtagh asked incredulously.  
“Aye. She was taken by some Dragoons. Most likely following Captain Randall’s orders... She was taken to Wentworth Prison!” Jamie explained impatiently.  
“That’s a pity,” Murtagh said and began to walk back to his card game.  
Jamie grabbed his arm. “Do ye no’ see? I must go find her! I’m in need of your assistance, man! Gather some men, we must bring Claire home!”  
“And if I said I’d help ye, what good would that do?” Murtagh challenged. “And as for takin’ men to Wentworth... what do ye mean to do? Storm the prison! Even if, and mind ye, I say _if_ we could get in—”  
“I will find a way in!” Jamie interrupted.  
“Mmmphm. That’s as may be. If we could get in, what happens when the English finds my men wanderin’ about their fortress? They send their men round with a brace of cannon that levels Leoch to the ground, that’s what!” He shook his head. “Nay, lad, I canna see—”  
Jamie choked down his rage and tried reason yet again. “Murtagh, we canna leave the lass... she’s carries my bairn...”  
“Mmmphm, I see your concern... still, it may not be so bad.” He argued.  
“Not so bad!” Jamie exclaimed in outrage.  
“What I mean is... she is a Sassenach, after all. She may be safer with the English than she is here. If it were no’ for the Dragoons, she would’ve been burned alive by our own villagers.”  
Jamie shook his head in frustration. “Captain Randall means her harm. He could kill her! Ye ken his reputation!”  
Murtagh shrugged. “He may also release her. It’s in God’s hands now, lad.” he said as he walked back to the Hall.  
“Murtagh!” Jamie called after him. “I’m riding out tonight. I’ll be making camp at the cabin... if ye can find your missing cods and decide to come join me!”

Jamie spent the next few hours gathering provisions for his journey. He rode out of Leoch as the sun was setting and continued to ride throughout the night with only short breaks to rest his horse. After a day of no rest himself, Jamie finally made camp in the woods. He wrapped himself in his plaid and fell into an uneasy sleep in a patch of heather.  
He dreamt of Claire. She was hurt and calling for him, and then suddenly, she was next to him. Jamie took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. She sighed softly against his lips. He could smell the scent of her hair and feel the softness of her skin...  
“Claire...” he moaned huskily.  
Claire ran her fingers through his hair and brushed her lips against his ear, “Jamie... you found me...” she whispered.  
Jamie’s eyes abruptly opened. He sat up wiping away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and gazed around feeling completely bereft. The forest was quiet save for some birds chirping and a few squirrels running across the heather. He took out an apple and some cheese from his sack and quickly ate before tending to his horse. If he pushed himself, he could arrive at the cabin in just a couple more days.

The cabin was a nickname Murtagh gave to a large cave hidden behind a mountain of rocks near a stream in a region that was heavily occupied by The English. Jamie and Murtagh accidentally discovered the cave years ago when they were avoiding a run in with some English Dragoons. Jamie and his Godfather hid in the cave for days waiting for Redcoats to clear the roads. The cave was comfortable enough that Murtagh joked it was a bonny cabin in the woods. It was only a half day’s ride from Wentworth Prison and made an ideal hideout for Jamie to form a search plan for Claire.

Jamie made camp in the cave and rested his horse. Although he needed rest himself, Jamie was feeling anxious and decided come nightfall he would scout around the prison. He silently cursed Murtagh. If he had more men, they could capture one of the English and interrogate him as to Claire’s whereabouts. Instead, Jamie decided to count the night guards and learn their routines. Somehow he would find a way into the prison to search for Claire.  
After nightfall, Jamie slowly made his way through the dark forest in direction of the prison. When he finally reached the edge of the woods, he could see distant lights from the prison walls. He was close. Jamie motioned his horse forward once more when his horse suddenly bucked. Jamie drew his sword as he heard a noise. Someone was walking through the woods! He calmed his horse and carefully looked around. He spotted a white wolf sitting a short distance away. Jamie stared at the animal and braced his horse as he heard a low growl. The wolf stood suddenly and quickly ran off.  
“It’s alright Donas,” Jamie whispered soothingly before urging his horse forward. He rode across the moor in the darkness toward the imposing walls of Wentworth Prison. It was quiet all around. Jamie was taken by surprise when he heard a whish noise, and before he could turn his head, he was struck hard from behind and fell off his horse unconscious.

Before Jamie opened his eyes or was even fully conscious, he instinctively knew something was wrong. The room was completely dark and his vision was blurry. He was on a hard, cold and damp floor and the smell of death perfumed the air around him. His head throbbed where he was struck and his muscles were stiff and sore.  
“What the devil,” he said as he tried to move his legs. He had a metal restraint around his ankle that was bolted to the wall. His vision adjusted slowly to the darkness and he began to take in some of his surroundings. He was in a filthy cell. There were most likely dead rodents lying around, hence the foul odor.  
Jamie heard footsteps in the distance and as the sounds grew closer it was accompanied by the clinging of metal keys which opened the cell door.   
A dark haired man stepped in holding a torchlight that illuminated the dark chamber. On the opposite wall, Jamie saw the petit figure of a woman chained in restraints like himself.  
_It canna be!_ Although her face was in shadow, she looked up and the gleam of her green eyes made Jamie’s heart burst with joy. “Claire!” he gasped with relief as tears sprung from his eyes.  
Claire looked back at him silently and shook her head. _Jamie no!_  
The man approached Jamie so that the torchlight fell full upon him. “Splendid! You’re already acquainted with one another. I won’t have to make any of the necessary introductions,” the man said.  
“And who the hell are you?” Jamie growled.  
“Ah, Yes... we have not had the pleasure,” the man said lifting the torch up to reveal his face. “I am, Jonathan Randall, Esquire, Captain of His Majesty’s Ninth Dragoons.” he said with a bow.


	28. Wentworth Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is taken prisoner at Wentworth Prison and has a private meeting with Captain Randall

_A week earlier...._

Claire awoke lying in a back of a cart. She could see nothing as a black hood was still covering her head. By the bits of light coming through the weave, she knew it was still daytime. Her hands were tied together behind her back and her arms were numb and painfully stiff. He feet were bound together as well. She was cold in her sodden dress. The sun has dried her outer garments, but the underlying layers of petticoat were still wringing wet. Claire was completely helpless. The last thing she remembered was nearly drowning at the witch trial. Where was she being taken?  
“Help! Somebody help me!” she screamed as loudly as possible. “Somebody help!” Panicked and unhinged, she continued to cry out from the back of the cart until her throat was sore and her voice became hoarse.  
After some time, the cart slowly came to halt. The sun would soon be going down. Claire heard the movement of men and horses and was suddenly pulled up to sit. The hood was ripped off her head and Claire squinted her eyes in the light as she saw herself surrounded by four Redcoats officers. One of the men untied her feet and lifted her from the cart.  
“We’ll make camp here tonight.” The officer said to the others.  
Claire was pulled forward by two of the guards.  
“Where are you taking me?” She asked hoarsely. Her voice was nearly gone and she was badly dehydrated.  
“We are to accompany you to Wentworth Prison, Madam,” the officer informed her.  
“On what authority am I being taken into custody?” Claire asked with growing trepidation.  
“Commander of the Garrison,” he replied.  
“And just who is your commander?” She croaked out.  
“Captain Randall, Madam.”  
The guards brought her to a small clearing in the woods on the side of the road.  
“Sir, can you please untie my hands? There are four officers here. I cannot possibly escape.” Claire pleaded. Her wrists were cut with rope burn and her arms were sore.  
“No, Madam. The Captain left strict orders,” he replied sternly.  
“Please, I am in pain. You can tie my wrists together in front of my body.” she asked.  
The officers looked around at each other questionably, before the leader stepped forward.  
“We have our orders Madam. If you cannot sit quietly, I shall be forced to gag you.”  
Claire turned her head down and tried to suppress her tears. It would be a long and painful journey to the prison.

Upon arrival to Wentworth Prison, Claire was immediately taken to the private office of the Captain. Claire stretched her arms with gratitude that her bindings had finally been removed as she walked around the small office. She eyed the paintings on the wall, the silver desk fittings, and the thick carpet on the floor before taking a seat behind a desk to await the Captain. After a few moments, exhaustion took over and Claire found herself drifting off to sleep sitting in the chair.

Claire awoke to the door opening and the sound of footsteps entering the office.  
“Yes, I thought so. It had to be you, when I heard the description of the witch trial.”  
The door closed behind him, and Claire found herself alone with Captain Jonathan Randall of His Majesty’s Ninth Dragoons. He was dressed this time in a clean red and light brown uniform, with a lace-trimmed stock and a neatly curled and powdered wig.  
Claire could not help but stare at his familiar face—Frank’s face. Claire’s breath caught in her throat as she detected faint rotting odor. It was the smell of death and seemed to surround the Captain like a cologne.  
As Claire continued to stare at the man, she noticed the small lines of ruthlessness around his mouth, and the touch of arrogance in the set of his shoulders.  
“The trial was quite the spectacle I hear. I wish I could have been there personally. It’s not everyday two women are convicted of witchcraft and burned alive on a pyre.” He informed her.  
“Burned... alive?” Claire asked suddenly feeling ill.  
“Indeed,” Randall laughed. “You’re dead Julia! You were found guilty. I bribed the judges to release you into my custody. Another young women stood in your place for the execution.” He said derisively.  
Claire felt a lump in her throat. _’Geillis’_ she thought as she suppressed her tears. 

The was a knock at the door and Captain Randall motioned in a young officer who stood at attention in the hallway. The young man stepped forth and two mugs of ale were poured and set on the desk before Claire. The Captain waved the young corporal back and they were alone together once more.  
Without blinking, he drew up a chair and sat down across from Claire. He lounged casually with one booted foot resting on the opposite knee. A riding crop dangled from one hand while his other hand reached for a mug of ale.  
Claire watched the braided tip, black and scarlet, as it swung slowly back and forth over the carpet. She noticed that a few of the Captains’s fingernails were black and a few more were missing entirely.  
“The idea has its attractions,” he said, watching Claire’s eyes follow the whip. “But I could probably think of something better, given a few moments to collect myself.”  
“I daresay you could,” Claire said weakly, “But you aren’t allowed to flog women, are you?”  
“Only under certain circumstances,” he said politely. “Which your situation doesn’t meet—yet. That’s rather public, though. I had thought we might get better acquainted in private, first.” He took another sip of his ale while eyeing Claire in silence.  
“I’ve waiting a long time to have you Julia... here... under my authority,” Randall said smiling.  
His veiled threats were unnerving Claire. She took her mug of ale and took a long sip.  
“Why did you bring me here? I am not Julia” Claire finally asked.  
“Now that is not the gratitude I was expecting from you. I did rescue you from a most wretched death. I should have known you would go back to the Mackenzies. Although, they were going to burn you alive! I thought even barbarians took better care of their womenfolk than that. Don’t you agree, Julia?”  
“My name is _not_ Julia,” Claire stated firmly. “Why do you continue to call me by that name?”  
“All right,” he said pleasantly. “Why don’t you tell me who you are, and how you come to find yourself here?”

Having little choice at this point, Claire decided to tell him half the truth, omitting any information about her mother, who the Captain seemed to be familiar with.  
“My name is Claire Beauchamp _Randall_. I honestly don’t know how I came to be here. I was on a holiday, with my husband Frank Randall. I was walking around the stones at Craig na Dun when you attacked me! Then a Highlander attacked you, and I was taken prisoner by the MacKenzie clan! I just want to go back home.” She said as her eyes began to water.

The captain appeared polite but skeptical throughout Claire’s explanation. He rocked back on his seat, considering. He rose, and taking off his wig, went to a cupboard, where he placed it on an empty stand. Unwigged, his hair was dark, thick, fine-textured, and shiny. It was also disturbingly familiar-looking, though it was shoulder-length and tied back with a blue silk ribbon. He removed this, plucked the comb from the desk and tidied the hair flattened by the wig, then retied the ribbon with some care.  
He stepped in front of Claire and suddenly leaned forward grabbing her hand. “And where did you get this ring!” he demanded as his black eyes pierced into her.  
“It’s my wedding ring!” Claire tried to jerk her hand away but the Captain tightened his grip. “As I said before, I have a husband—Frank _Randall_... It’s my wedding ring! He told this ring had been a family heirloom for nearly 200 years. Perhaps he is one of your kin? You look much like him.”  
The Captain’s grip on her hand made her feel cold all over. Her diagnostic sense was never wrong. He finally released his grip and she pulled her hand away in horror. This man... Captain Randall... whoever he was... he was not alive! It was the same sense she got when she first met him and he attacked her. She was talking to a dead man! But he didn’t die by natural causes. By this time she knew and understood her diagnostic sense. As impossible as it seemed, she knew she was right. Once again, she noticed the putrid odor in the air.  
Randall sat down and leaned back once again looking amused. “Claire? Is that so?” He eyed her closely. “No,” he said, “No, it isn’t possible.” He then began to laugh.  
Claire stared at the man blankly as she desperately tried to hide her fear. “I should like to know your mind, Captain Randall. What do you mean to do about me?”  
He smiled and took a careful sip of his ale before replying. “Nothing.”  
“Really?” Claire asked in surprise.  
“Really.... I shall do nothing with you... yet,” he said as his gaze lingered on her bodice. “Not until we rid you of that bastard you carry.”  
Claire immediately stood. “You sick son of a bitch! What are you?”  
Randall stood in front of her staring back intently, like a snake hoping to fascinate a bird. “I think you know now exactly what I am, _Claire._ ”  
He stepped forward and Claire quickly pushed him with such a force that he tripped backwards over his chair and fell against the wall knocking over a shelf with a loud crash. Claire made a quick dash to exit the room. An officer, who must have been lingering just outside, opened the door and poked his head in after hearing the ruckus.  
“Hold her,” Randall shouted to him brusquely, as he got up and calmly crossed the room.  
“No!” Claire shouted while struggling against the officer as he grabbed her. “You will not take me prisoner!” She instinctively slapped her hand firmly on his face as she felt something inside herself—a great pervasive sensation that washed through her and seemingly out of her. At that same moment the young officer released his hold on Claire and fell over backwards. Claire watched as the blood poured out of his nose and his ears, and his eyes rolled up into his head. She was horrified as her diagnostic sense, still operative, told her that the officer would die. In shock, Claire didn’t hear Randall behind her.  
“You are very much like your mother, Claire,” he said.  
Then everything went black as Claire was struck forcefully on the back of her head.


	29. To Ransom A Man’s Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire confesses all to Jamie while they are prisoners... they try to escape from Wentworth.... it doesn’t go as planned

Jamie quickly took in his surroundings. The small room was furnished with a camp bed that leaned against one wall. There was also two chairs and a table, on which sat a number of objects, including a large pewter flask and horn cups. Claire was there, sitting on the floor across from him chained to the opposite wall, curled into herself.

Jamie looked at Claire. Her face was dead-white, and her eyes were glazed. The room stank of fear and vomit. She was chained by the ankle to a bolt in the wall, but otherwise unfettered. A coil of rope among the rubble of objects on the table had plainly been used, though; there were raw marks on her wrists and elbows.

“I’m going to kill you for this,” Jamie growled looking up at Randall.  
“And who are you?” Randall asked with amusement.  
“Jamie MacKenzie... I demand you release my _wife_ at once!” He shouted as he moved towards Randall fighting against his restraints.  
“Husband? Is that so?” Randall said with surprise. He walked over to Claire and crouched down beside her.  
“And just how many husbands do you have, Claire?” he asked as he touched her chin and lifted her head up.  
Randall’s face, like Frank’s, seldom showed what he was thinking, presenting instead a bland and impenetrable facade. At that moment, though, the Captain’s customary poise had deserted him, and Claire saw anger reflected in his black eyes.  
“Only two,” Claire replied softly.  
The Captain laughed. “Only two... well, I suppose the third time will be a charm? Don’t you agree? You’re a very lovely woman, shrewish tongue notwithstanding,” he said caressing her face.  
Claire shivered at the touch of his cold hand. His lifeless hand. Beneath his flesh she could hear no heartbeat. No blood coursing through his veins. Claire noticed the touch of gangrene on his fingertips and felt nauseas at the smell of death that surrounded him.  
“Get your hands off her!” Jamie shouted.  
Randall suddenly grabbed Claire’s neck.  
“Hold your tongue! Or your precious Claire will pay the price!” Randall warned as he gripped Claire’s neck.  
Jamie clenched his jaw and watched as the Captain stood and casually walked back over to him.  
“As you can see, I’ve taken good care of Claire since your clan tried to execute her. I’m sure she finds the accommodations here an improvement to that dank squalor you call _Castle_ Leoch.” Randall said as he stepped closer. “I heard the rumors that your wife is a witch,” the Captain remarked with a smile. His tone was light, as he watched Jamie closely. “There was quite a bit of trouble at Cranesmuir, wasn’t there? News of the trial traveled swiftly. You’re lucky that my men arrived in time to rescue Claire. No doubt that it was superstitious nonsense caused by a town full of simpletons.” Randall eyed Jamie speculatively. “Jamie... MacKenzie... what say you? Is Claire a witch?” Randall asked in a mocking tone.  
Jamie clenched his jaw in anger for a moment. “No, she’s no’ a witch.... she’s a fairy,” he replied coolly.  
Randall tossed back his head and laughed. “And just how did you manage to find your fairy? Perhaps... you’re here to apprehend a fugitive? To see her death sentence carried out?” Randall prodded.  
“I’m here to rescue my wife,” Jamie said icily. “Release us now and perhaps I shall give ye a quick and painless death!”  
Randall smirked at him. “Is that the gratitude I get? Was it not _my men_ who rescued Claire just moments before she was to be burned on a pyre? And where, pray, were you?” Randall shook his head. “The MacKenzies have always been a savage clan... like a pack of rabid dogs. I’ll flay you, just like I flayed Claire’s father... another filthy MacKenzie” he spat out.  
Jamie surveyed the scene with dispassionate eyes for a moment, calculating the length of his restraints to the wall. With a sudden effort, he straightened painfully and stood swaying.  
“Don’t try it. You’ll be dead before you get two steps.” Randall warned.  
Jamie lurched forward and Randall grabbed a club and quickly cracked Jamie on the side of the head then tossed the club to the ground. Jamie fell back against the wall and slumped down as the club clanked hollowly on the stone floor.  
“Don’t hurt him,” Claire cried. “Please, let him go!” She begged.  
Randall’s voice was amused and curious. “Why should I?”  
Jamie was unconscious on the floor, his face was pale and blood ran down the side of his face where he was struck. Claire worried he had a concussion.  
“You can’t take me alone and I know it as well as you do,” Claire said slowly.  
“You’re no coward, I’ll give you that. In fact, you’re a fit match for him,” he nodded at Jamie, who was beginning to stir a bit, “and I can’t give you a better compliment than that.”  
Claire glanced at Jamie as he was beginning to rouse. He lifted his head and brought his hands to his wounded head.  
“I might be persuaded to make a bargain with you,” Randall said abruptly. He leaned back, half-sitting on the table.  
Claire laughed bitterly. “I can’t say I’m in either a position or a mood to bargain at the moment. What can you offer me?”  
Randall looked to Jamie. “A choice, at least. Tell me—and convince me—that you will cooperate with me. We shall be married at once and leave Scotland. In return, I will release your former husband... and return him safely to his clan.”  
“Nay! I will strangle you wi’ my bare hands before I let ye place a hand on Claire!” Jamie shouted hoarsely.  
Randall looked amused. “I’d like to see you try.” He said passively. “Think on my offer Claire. It’s the only one you will get. If you decide not to cooperate, I will force you to watch me punish your husband. Remember that I am the commander of this garrison. As such, I am empowered to take certain steps in order to secure the safety of this area against traitors and any other persons whose behavior I consider suspicious. And those steps, Madam, I am fully prepared to take.” Randall warned at he moved to the cell door. He unlocked the door and quickly left leaving Claire and Jamie alone in the dark.  
“Claire... what has he done to ye, my love?” Jamie asked.

Claire had sat alone in the prison for a week before Jamie arrived. She talked aloud to herself, laughed even, thinking there is no one, no one to know, no one to hear. Her entire sense of self had been washed away. She was helpless in the cell. _And what of my family? How did that monster know my mother?_

Randall had visited her alone once during that week.  
“I should so like to talk to you,” he said. “I should like to discover how life has been for the transplanted one, so very far from the home soil.” He had hesitated, then said “I knew your Mother—not long ago she was here, with me—”  
The moment could not have been more excruciating if he had struck her. Yet she hadn’t turned away. She had merely remained motionless. _Knew my mother?_ How ghastly it had been. And this man, a clinically dead man, with coal black eyes regarding her so patiently, as she remained silent. For the truth was, she could not make herself speak. It was him. He was _the man_ in her nightmares. _The man_ in her hallucinations as a teenager. He was real.

“I knew your mother throughout her life, and I loved her very much. She loved me as well and we were together everyday... until your great grandmother interfered and took her away.” Randall told her.  
Claire looked at him incredulously.  
“It took me a long time to find her again. If it were not for _your great grandmother,_ Julia would be alive and with us now. When I find Margarete... that old hag, I will kill her!” he said icily.  
Randall grabbed Claire’s left hand and looked at Frank’s wedding ring.  
“Your mother left something behind with me before she disappeared through time. She left behind this ring... her wedding ring... The spell on this ring was meant to unite us. And just 5 days after she left, that is when I met you. You look so much like her, I thought you were Julia.... I did not think the spell would be so far reaching that it would fall upon her daughter... hundreds of years later... Imagine my surprise. But I will love you, just as I loved your mother... we were meant to be together, Claire.”  
She looked back at Randall in horror. What was this man saying to her?  
“I have an affinity for Thomson women. Your clan’s bloodline is... very special... if you refuse me Claire, I suspect I can wait long enough for your daughter.” Randall said gazing at her belly. 

Randall’s words filled Claire with seething anger. _I have killed two people in my life. I can kill with anger. I know that I can. That is what has happened with the transplanted one as you called me. Is it possible to kill you now? A man who is already dead?_  
Had he flinched slightly as he looked at her?  
While studying medicine in her own time, Claire was mesmerized by what could be seen in test tubes, slides, and graphs. She never cared to test her own killing power. She wanted only to believe that she had never used it, that maybe there was some other explanation for what had happened to Dr. Christie, that maybe somehow she was innocent. But after killing the guard in Randall’s office, she knew she wasn’t innocent. She wanted to test her powers on Captain Randall. She wanted to kill him. _What am I? A witch, for the love of God! I am a healer, not a killer!_ Something was happening to her. She was turning into something unrecognizable to herself. She didn’t want this power, yet she knew she had no choice but to use it. It was the only way she would free herself from this evil man that held her prisoner.

“Claire? Claire... please tell me he didna hurt you...” Jamie pleaded. His voice was full of concern.  
Claire looked at him as his voice drew her back into the present moment. A foreboding caught her suddenly. She had the distinct awareness—that free-floating telepathy—that she was never going to live in Scotland again. No, when she left this cell, she would be torn away from Scotland—and Jamie—for good.

Just then, they heard footsteps outside the cell. A large servant, in a stained and ragged uniform, unlocked the cell and stood in the doorframe looking at them. His expression did not change, showing no particular interest either in Jamie or Claire. He walked into the cell cautiously and put a tray of food on the table. He lit a couple of torches in their sconces on the wall, then made a fire in the small brazier in the corner of the dungeon before leaving them.

When the guard left, Claire scrambled up to the table. She grabbed a piece of bread and ate it quickly.  
“Jamie, how is your head? Do you have any dizziness? Can you get up and eat something? We must keep up our strength.” Claire said.  
“Aye, I can manage,” he said as he got up and slowly walked to the table. His ankle was bound to the opposite wall. As they both tugged on their restraints, about several feet of space remained between them. Claire could only touch Jamie’s hand.  
“Are you all right, Jamie?”  
“Aye, dinna worry about me, Claire. I have thick skull. Solid bone, according to my sister. Are ye... did he hurt ye?” Jamie asked hesitantly.  
“No, he didn’t touch me.”  
Jamie let out a breath of relief. “Thank Christ. What... what about the bairn?” He choked out and his eyes began to mist.  
“She’s fine... for now.” Claire handed him a piece of bread. “Please eat something. I don’t know when they will feed us again.”  
“This is fair nasty,” Jamie remarked chewing on the stale bread.  
Claire suddenly burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  
“Claire... my love... Dinna fash. We will escape this hellhole, even if I have to strangle the Captain.” He said caressing her hand.  
“Jamie... Captain Randall... he’s not what he seems to be.” she said slowly.  
“Aye? And what do ye mean by that? Can ye explain it to me?” He asked looking at her watchfully.  
Claire was silent as she and Jamie finished the remaining food on the tray. The horror of the past week oppressed her and she felt profound sense of mourning. She had lost her only friend, Geillis. Another death that was _her fault_. The body count was adding up. Without speaking, Claire motioned for Jamie to sit with her closer to the small fire.  
Jamie sat staring into the fire for a long time. Finally he looked over at Claire, hands clasped around his knees.  
“I said before that I’d not ask ye things ye had no wish to tell me. And I’d not ask ye now; but I must know, for your safety as well as mine.” He paused, hesitating. “Claire, if you’ve never been honest wi’ me, be so now, for I must know the truth. Claire, are ye a witch?”  
Claire gaped at him. “A witch? You—you can really ask that?” She thought he must be joking. He wasn’t.  
Jamie leaned over and clasped her hand, staring into her eyes as though willing her to answer him. “I must ask it, Claire! And you must tell me!”  
“And if I were?” She asked through dry lips. “If you had thought I were a witch? Would you still have come here for me?”  
“I would have gone to the stake with you!” he said violently. “And to hell beyond, if I must. But may the Lord Jesus have mercy on my soul and on yours, tell me the truth!”  
Claire tore her hand away from his and continued to stare at the fire. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. Claire brought her hands to her face to wipe away tears.... her body then began to shake and she shrieked with hysterical laughter.  
Jamie’s face, white and shocked, stared back at her.  
After a few moments, Claire’s laughter died down. Panting, she simply looked at him for a moment.  
“Yes,” she said, still heaving with gasps of unhinged laughter. “Yes, I am a witch! I must be.”  
And then that foreboding again. What was it, a premonition? Claire glanced around the cell. She felt a leaden sadness, as if she were in mourning. It was the exact same feeling she had after the deaths of her friends. She looked at Jamie. _Would this be goodbye?_ Claire shivered and looked away.

Jamie looked at her face in the soft glow and it appeared perfectly menacing and malicious. Surely it was a mistake. He wasn’t making out any true expression on her face. Yet she sat there, quite still, either unaware of the dread he felt now, or uncaring.  
“Claire?” Jamie asked hesitantly.  
“Yes?”  
“Are ye … are ye afraid of hurting me?”  
“Why do you ask that?”  
“I just got the strangest idea, that you were trying… you were trying to throw me a warning.”  
Claire didn’t answer. He had shaken her with the statement. Jamie studied her face in the glow of the small fire. How pretty and sad she looked! How could he have ever made such an error? She was about to cry. In fact, it was simply awful to see the sadness in her face.  
“What is it?” he whispered.  
“Jamie.... I’ve never had smallpox, but I can walk through a room full of dying men and never catch it. I can heal the sick and breathe their air and touch their bodies, and the sickness can’t touch me. I can’t catch cholera, either, or lockjaw, or the morbid sore throat. I’ve never been sick a day in my life.” she explained.  
“And there is this other thing, this talent for knowing, I call it the diagnostic sense but it’s more than that. I lay my hands on the sick or injured and I know just how to heal them. I have powers to heal the sick... there’s no other way I explain it. The things I know—” She stopped, breathing heavily, trying to maintain control.  
“Everything I’ve ever told you about myself was true,” She said. “Everything. I don’t have any family here. Do you know when I was born?” She asked looking up.  
“On the twentieth of October, in the Year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and twenty. Do you hear me?” she demanded, for he was blinking at her unmoving, as though paying no attention to a word she said.  
“I said nineteen twenty! Nearly two hundred years from now! Do you hear?” Claire said forcibly, and he nodded slowly.  
“I hear,” he said softly.  
“Yes, you hear!” She blazed. “And you think I’m raving mad. Don’t you? Admit it! That’s what you think. You have to think so, there isn’t any other way you can explain me to yourself. I thought I was mad, or dreaming at first when I ended up in this time. I am not from this century. Oh, Jamie …” she looked at him and realized he was afraid of her.  
“Jamie?” she asked feeling her heart break with absolute loneliness. They sat together silently for a few moments.  
“I believe you,” he said finally. “I dinna understand it a bit—not yet—but I believe you. Claire, I believe you! Listen to me! There’s the truth between us, you and I, and whatever ye tell me, I shall believe it.” He said with conviction.  
“Jamie... there’s something else. About the power in my hands... to cure the sick. Well, I have a power in me that’s equally strong. I have killed with this power. I killed a doctor years ago when I was a nurse. He tried to attack me—and I killed him. When I was first brought to this prison, I tried to escape. A guard grabbed me and I killed him! I can kill, I tell you! I’m a doctor today because I am trying to deny that power, I have built my life upon compensation for that evil!” Claire exclaimed. She took a deep breath. She ran her fingers back through her hair.  
“I’m here, I’m listening,” Jamie said. “I want you to tell me … everything.”  
How could he put into words that she fascinated him and utterly absorbed him, and how remarkable that was after all these weeks of frenzy and craziness.

Claire began to cry again, but this time with relief. When she calmed down, Claire began to tell him everything, haltingly but coherently. She told him about her parents, and the war... and she told him about Frank.  
“Frank,” he said softly. “Then he isna dead, after all.”  
“He isn’t born.” She felt another small wave of hysteria break against her ribs, but managed to keep herself under control. “Neither am I.”  
Claire looked at him closely, “Do you really believe me, Jamie?” She asked.  
He sighed, and smiled ruefully at her. “Aye, I believe ye, Claire.”  
Claire took the small necklace off from around her neck and handed it to him. “Jamie, will you make me a promise?”  
Jamie nodded and took the charm from her hand. “And what is this... your wee charm?”  
“When I was a girl, a seer gave this to me for protection. The Mayans believed that evil spirits could shape shift in the night, turn into animals or even people to trick the living. She said it was for the one I lost. I think she was talking about you. Promise me you will wear it and never take it off, especially if we ever lose each other.”  
“Claire, ye will never lose me for a day,” Jamie said.  
“Promise me now,” she insisted.  
“Aye, I promise ye, I will never take it off. Do ye sleep now, mo duinne. I will keep watch. No one shall harm ye; I’m here.” He said as he reached over and caressed her hand.

Jamie watched Claire as she slept on the small bed. Young and fresh she looked, even in this filthy dungeon, and effortlessly seductive in her peaceful sleep. And a sudden warmth rose in his loins and coursed through him, causing his face to burn. He would have found her alluring and interesting to look at, no matter where when he saw her. He never felt a greater joy than opening his eyes in this cell and finding her alive.  
“My lady,” he said softly. “My … Claire.”  
Jamie tied the wee charm she gave him around his leg and tucked it in his boot. He would never take it off.  
Jamie also felt the numbness of shock over her confessions. He wasn’t sure what to believe. The raw feeling of doubt mingled in him with an almost brutal desire to touch, to know, perhaps to possess. He thought of her hands on him now, of her mouth on his mouth. It seemed suddenly cruel that after weeks of separation they both were in chains that prevented such intimacy. He felt resentment again. But that didn’t matter now. He needed to find a way for them to escape this prison.

Claire slept like the dead, awakened by screaming sometime after dawn with a terrible headache, stiff in every muscle. There wasn’t any sound save crackle of the fire in the brazier. It must have been a dream.  
“Jamie... are you awake?” Claire whispered rising slowly.  
“Aye” he said from a darkened corner in the room.  
“Jamie... “ Claire’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the cell. Claire groaned.  
“Not so soon,” she whispered as Randall once again entered the room.  
“Good sleep?” Randall said in a cheerful tone as he entered the cell. He smiled at Claire, “Have you thought on my offer?”  
“I have and I accept, provided you release this prisoner.” She said raising her eyes to look him in the face. The face that looked like someone she once loved.  
“I have an offer. You want me.” Jamie said. The cool Scottish voice was matter-of-fact. “Let the woman go, and ye can have me.”  
“Jamie, No! You don’t know what you’re offering.” Claire snapped.  
“But I do have you. You’re already my prisoner. I could leave you here in this cell, of course, to die. Although there’s a way out, quite near. That would leave your wife—you did say she’s your wife?—with me.” Randall said with a smile. He walked over to Jamie. “Perhaps, you could be useful to me after all.” Randall mused. He stepped in closer as Jamie rose to his feet.  
“Slowly now... I will kill you in an instant if you even think about taking a swing. Think about Claire,” Randall warned. He stripped Jamie of his shirt and admired his muscular form. Randall circled Jamie slowly while Jamie stood frozen in place.  
Claire couldn’t hear him, but Randall seemed to be whispering something to Jamie. And Jamie wasn’t moving. “Jamie! What is he saying to you? Randall! We had an agreement!” Claire yelled. Jamie still wasn’t moving.  
“But I think I have a better idea Claire, one I’m sure you’ll be most pleased with,” Randall said smiling as he continued to circle around Jamie. Claire let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Jamie stood frozen standing in a field. How did he get here? He was suddenly very confused. He couldn’t remember where he had been. Then suddenly Claire was standing before him. She put her hands on his chest.  
“It’s over now Jamie, we can be together now... forever!” She whispered.  
“Forever?” Jamie asked. Something did not feel right. He felt a burning sensation on his right leg. It felt as if his boot was on fire, but he couldn’t move.  
Claire’s hands moved over his chest.  
“Kiss me, surrender to me,” she whispered.  
She leaned forward and Jamie put his arms around her and kissed her. He felt her warm mouth but she didn’t feel like Claire. Her tongue moved down his throat and cut off his breath. The burning sensation moved over his entire body, and he heard Claire screaming in the distance. Jamie opened his eyes and saw a black inhuman form moving in front of his face. It looked like thousands of black flies were swarming around his body. He swiftly pushed himself away from the creature and immediately picked up a chair near the table and swung it blindly around him crashing it over Randall’s head. Randall fell to the ground laughing. Jamie moved wildly to attack him again but his chains restrained him. Jamie fell to the floor and vomited. His boot still felt like it was on fire. Jamie reached into his boot and realized that it was Claire’s wee charm which was causing the disturbance but left it tied around his leg. He would keep his promise to Claire and never take it off.

Claire was sobbing as she watched Randall kiss Jamie while some ungodly black goo oozed from Randall’s mouth. After Jamie hit him with a chair, she watched him and fall to the ground and vomit.  
“What did you do to him? You promised to let him go! We had an agreement!” Claire screamed.  
Randall continued to laugh as Jamie gagged on the ground.  
“That was... new. Did you put protections on him Claire? Do you have something different? Some power... secrets... that the others didn’t have? You see, I’ve never failed to seduce and possess a soul. And Claire... I was only going to kill him for you... so that you may still have his body... and me. I suppose this body will have to make do for the time being.”  
“I promised not to fight you, if you released him.” Claire said angrily. She watched Jamie on the floor as he continued to gag. “What did you do to him!” she exclaimed.  
“Don’t worry, he will live... for now. As for our arrangement...” Randall walked around the table over to Claire. “You’ll allow me a brief test of your sincerity?”  
“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”  
Randall laughed. “No, Claire, you belong to me now.”  
“Well, you’re not going to do to me whatever you just did to him, are you?” Claire asked hysterically. Randall was standing much too close to her.  
“No, but we are to be man and wife today.” Randall took Claire’s hands and brought her to stand before him.  
“Turn around,” he said. And Claire obeyed. Randall began untying the laces to her dress. Soon all her clothing was gone and she was standing in her shift. Randall untied that too and it fell to the floor and Claire was naked before him.  
“Claaaaaaire!” Jamie roared. “Take your hands off my wife! Noooooo!!!”  
Claire stood naked looking at Randall. She was shaking uncontrollably.  
“Well? Where is your will to destroy me, beautiful one?” he whispered. “Where is your power to drive me back into hell?”  
Claire was paralyzed by fear as she kept her eyes focused upon him. Jamie’s was still shouting but his voice seemed to fade into the background.  
“What shape would you have me take? He is not perfect, Claire, he is human but not perfect. No.”  
Randall touched her cheek. Claire blinked and suddenly Jamie was standing before her. Once again, she stumbled backwards, paralyzed, and unable to move or speak. Tremors moved through her limbs.  
“You fear me, Claire?” he said, lips barely moving as she focused on them. Claire willed herself not to fall for any seduction spell. This was not Jamie standing before her.  
“What do you really want?” she asked as she focused on those coal black eyes and the mirage of Jamie faded and it was Randall standing before her again.  
“Ah, that would be a very long time in the telling,” Randall answered as pushed Claire down onto the small bed. Jamie continued to scream threats to him. He moved like a wild beast straining against his chains.  
“Listen to that Scottish wildcat.” Randall laughed as he spread Claire’s legs and kneeled in between them.  
“Don’t you harm him. We made a deal. Don’t even think about using any of your spells or tricks on him! Or I swear to you, I will find a way to destroy you!” Claire warned him.  
“He will be released unharmed to his clan if you keep your word with me, Claire.” Randall replied as he unbuttoned his trews.  
Claire was shivering as she felt a wave of nausea. She had one chance to get this right, and could hardly think with Jamie screaming all the ways he would kill Randall. With Randall’s guard down as they were about to have sex, she would test her powers to kill. She could not hesitate to use her power. She felt Randall’s hard cock against her, and she could smell his rotten body. She kept control even though she thought she might vomit. 

Randall freed his cock and Claire’s eyes widened at the size of it. It did not look natural, much like the rest of Randall. Fighting her fear, she wrapped her legs around him to draw him in. “I’m ready,” she said seductively as Randall moved closer. Filled with revulsion and anger, Claire quickly encircled him with her arms and placed her hands on him as she willed him to die. Randall fell over suddenly and Claire scrambled to get up. She took the keys from Randall at once and unlocked the chains around her ankle and then was sure to lock them around Randall. She began to dress quickly as she looked over at Jamie.

After she finished dressing, Claire slowly walked over to Jamie. She knelt down beside him but he stopped her with a sudden motion of his hand. His face contorted with crying, and his voice was strangled and breathless.  
“Claire … please. Please turn around. I’m going to be verra sick, and I don’t want you to see it. Please.”  
“Let me take off this chain,” she said as she freed his ankles from his fetters. “Claire...” he said.  
She heard the pleading in his voice, and she stood and turned away feeling guilt as Jamie coughed and vomited. She went to the cell door and opened it. Claire realized her hands were shaking as she unlocked the cell. The close proximity to Randall had scared her badly.  
“We have very little time. I’m not sure if I killed him or not... Do you think you can stand now? We need to escape quickly. We have very little time before another guard finds us.” She glanced over at Randall who was still unconscious on the floor. Claire hoped she had killed him but she couldn’t tell. Her diagnostic sense had told her he was dead from the first moment she met him.  
Jamie got up from the cell floor and followed her out.  
“This way.” Claire indicated a narrow alcove in the wall, unlighted by torches. The way out, of which Randall had spoken of, Claire had seen other guards use during her week alone in the cell. Claire walked quickly into the secret dark hallway. She couldn’t see anything in front of her but continued forward in the darkness. A narrow trap door at the back of the alcove crashed open with a squeal of hinges. Expecting further darkness, Claire was dazzled by the blinding daylight as she fell through the trap door. Claire fell staggering into a pile rubbish and from the smell of it, dead prisoners, as the doors slammed to above her. The scent of death and flies buzzing were all around her as Claire quickly climbed out of the pit. ‘Head down, breathe deep,’ she told herself firmly. _You are not going to faint, you have seen dead men before, lots of them, you are not going to faint!_  
Claire looked behind her for Jamie. He was right behind her. Wasn’t he?  
Looking up at the sheering wall above her, she could see streaks and runnels down the stone, marking the path of garbage tipped from a sliding door forty feet above. That must be the kitchen quarters. She made a note these other doors weren’t fortified or guarded like the rest of the castle and walked along the rim of the ditch... where was Jamie?  
The air felt heavy with moisture and it would likely rain by nightfall. She looked back in the ditch... still no Jamie.  
The ravine curved away from the prison and looked like it led to a river through the trees. She decided she would hide among the trees and wait for Jamie in case Randall sent any men out to look for her.  
Claire heard a faint sound behind her. She whirled. The sound had been made by a rock falling from the lip of the ditch, dislodged by the foot of a large white wolf. It was Master Raymond’s wolf!  
“Take me to your master,” she said to the wolf.  
The wolf continued on the ravine through the trees and Claire followed. She had to find Master Raymond and knew instinctively he would help her rescue Jamie. Claire did not know much of the man, but she knew he was trustworthy. She knew he would help her.  
Claire followed the wolf and soon came upon a small camp in the woods where she once again stood face to face with Master Raymond.  
“Madonna... I have been looking for you! You escaped the prison on your own! It’s a miracle!” He said jubilantly.  
Claire felt a weight liftted off of her shoulders and tears formed in her eyes. “How did you know I was imprisoned her?”  
“I’ve been following you for months, Claire” he answered. “Your kin and my wife, Espy entrusted me with your wellbeing... it’s a duty I take seriously. I was at the trial... I’m sorry, but the Redcoats took you before I could free you... so followed you here. I had a plan to rescue you.”  
“How did you plan on rescuing me? This prison is well guarded.”  
“I know, Mademoiselle, but I have infiltrated the prison.”  
“How did you infiltrate the prison?”  
“Well, I’m a mere humble peddler to most, but I am a medicine doctor. My medicines work. I have more than a few guards willing to do my bidding now. I have what you call... penicillin?”  
Claire looked at the man shocked! “Why didn’t a guard help me escape then?”  
“Madonna.... you were held by but a few.... the men I have bribed were not aware of your presence, but they were looking for you....”  
“My husband, Jamie, is still in the prison!” she said tearfully. “I will not leave this place until he is with us. Please, I beg of you... help me find Jamie!”  
“We shall go into the prison in the morning.... I visit the guards daily, I will inquire upon him. In the meantime, you need some rest.”  
Master Raymond instructed her to go into his cart. The ceiling wasn’t high, but there was a small bed and a basket of fruit and bread.  
“Rest now and eat. We shall find your Jamie tomorrow,” he assured her.  
Claire took an apple and some bread. She was very weak and knew she had not had enough to eat in weeks. She felt her slightly swollen belly..... the baby was still in good health and Claire needed to keep up her strength. She ate her fill and soon found sleep in Master Raymond’s little bed. In the morning, they would find devise a plan to get Jamie.


	30. Escape from Wentworth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Master Raymond go to Wentworth to rescue Jamie

The next morning, Claire awoke with the sunrise half starved and feeling nauseas. She had slept like the dead on Master Raymond’s small bed covered in blankets and a fur in his cart. She exited the cart to see Master Raymond with his wolf around a small campfire making a brew. She immediately felt guilty taking the old man’s bed and forcing him to sleep on a blanket around the campfire.  
“Good morrow, Madonna. I hope you slept well. You’ll need your strength today if we are going to rescue your Jamie,” he said.  
“I did sleep well and feel quite better now. I’m sorry I took your bed, Master Raymond.” She said looking at the pitiful thin blankets on the ground. He even left his fur on her last night.  
Master Raymond smiled. “Nonsense! Neige and I enjoy sleeping... under the stars... as you say? Come sit, we have to make the necessary preparations.” He motioned to join him. Claire took a seat on a log opposite Master Raymond in front of the fire. 

“What are you making? It smells... interesting.” Claire said. She could not make out exactly what the herbal scents were. They were not unpleasant, but did not smell delicious either. It was a bitter scent.  
“Break your fast now. The brew will be ready soon,” He said handing her a some bread and cheese and an apple wrapped in a small linen.  
“What exactly is this brew?” She asked curiously. Master Raymond was full of concentration as he stirred the brew and added more herbs.  
“This is a brew to disguise you, Madonna.” He said.  
“Disguise me! How is that possible?” Claire asked. She was shocked. Was it possible to drink a potion and change the way you look? Claire’s eyes widened as she watched Master Raymond.  
“It is to disguise your magic. I could sense your magic from the moment I met you. That is how I recognized you. It seems to have gotten more powerful. I believe the Captain put a spell on you when he held you a prisoner.” He said.  
“You can see this... magic spell?” She asked bewildered.  
“Not see it... sense it. I cannot risk the Captain sensing the same thing when we go into the prison. These herbs are potent enough that they will disguise it for a time.” He told her as he prepared two cups.  
“So people can... sense my magic?” Claire asked.  
“People like myself, oui. But ordinary people will not. The Captain is whom we fear and why we must take this brew. It will keep him from sensing your presence. I think you understand now, he is not the man he seems to be?”  
Claire thought for a moment. “Is he an evil spirit?”  
“Oui, we call him _’le monstre’_. Espy has much to teach you, Madonna. Have no fear, you will soon be safe. Now... let it cool for some moments, and then drink.” Master Raymond said as he handed her the cup. The scent was powerful, but not terrible. She drank it all at once and decided she did not mind the taste.  
“I finished it. Now what?” Claire asked.  
“Now we eat and wait,” Master Raymond said.  
“Wait for what?”  
“We wait for the brew to work. You may have to have a few more cups. When the brew is working and I cannot feel your magic, we will then go to the prison.” He said.  
“How will we get Jamie out though? They won’t just hand him over!” Claire asked. She was so confused.  
“Of course they will. I have already made friends with a few of the prison guards. And I have gold. There isn’t much they won’t do for a bag of gold coins. The crown pays very small wages to soldiers.” He said matter of factly.  
Claire looked at Master Raymond in amazement. He didn’t even show the slightest fear about going in to the prison. Who was this man? Despite his small stature and grey hair, Claire still couldn’t figure out exactly how old he was. His face was smooth and he had the energy of a man in his youth.

An hour later, Claire was wandering through the woods away from camp looking for a tree to water. Master Raymond wasn’t satisfied until she drank 5 cups of his brew over the course of one hour. He had offered her another, but she simply refused! She was about to burst with tea! This was by far, the strangest morning of her life. Master Raymond explained to her that her cousin Espy was wealthy, and that all the Thomson women were heir to a fortune in gold. They would buy Jamie’s freedom he told her. They had an endless supply of gold coins and the officers would not refuse. Claire was shocked. _I am heiress to a fortune,_ she thought to herself as she watered some bushes.

Master Raymond was packing up as she returned to their little camp. Claire walked around to the back of the cart, and saw Master Raymond holding some bottles with pills.  
“Do you need me to help you with anything?” She asked.  
“No, Madonna. Hold these, we shall bribe the guards with this.” He said giving her the pill bottles.  
Claire looked inside the cart and saw on the floor a small hidden trap door. It was open and Claire could see many bottles of pills as well as small coin bags.  
“Very clever,” she said as he closed the small door and locked it.  
“We cannot be too careful,” he said holding a small bag of coins. “Now, you will stay hidden in the back of the cart. Take this robe and put it on, stay hidden at all times.” He said as he handed his cloak and then took the of pills from her.

Claire put on the cloak and put the hood over her head. She sat on the small bed as Master Raymond closed the door of the cart and waited patiently as he prepared his horse. Soon, they were traveling slowly through the woods back to the prison. After some time, Claire saw out of a small hole in the cart the grassy hills that led up to the prison and she wondered what had happened to Jamie. He was right behind her. Why didn’t he fall out of the trap door like she did? Would they be able to find him? The closer they got to the prison, the more fearful Claire became. Not just for Jamie’s life, but for her own and her unborn child’s life. Now that she knew Randall wanted her, she was terrified of being captured by him again. She was almost hysterical when the horse slowed its gait and the cart came to a stop. Master Raymond came around and opened the cart.  
“We are almost to the prison, are you well, Madonna?” he asked her noticing her extremely pale white face. She had small beads of sweat forming on her forehead.  
“Oh, Master Raymond, I’m so frightened!” Claire cried.  
“There is a cave just up ahead. I want you to hide there while I go into the prison. Niege will keep you safe,” he said reaching a hand out to her to help her out of the cart.  
“No! I’m coming with you! I’m frightened, but I must help you find Jamie! You don’t even know what he looks like!” Claire said resolutely.  
Master Raymond studied her for a moment.  
“Very well, Madonna. We shall ride into Wentworth now, you must stay silent and do everything I say,” he said cautiously.  
Claire nodded furiously. She did not want to hide in a cave. She wanted to help Master Raymond find Jamie. 

They continued slowly along the dreary road that lead to the prison. With only one horse pulling the small cart with both Master Raymond and herself, she felt that they moved at a snail’s pace. After some time they slowly came upon a building that loomed up black against the overcast sky. Built in the shape of a gigantic cube, four hundred feet on a side, with a tower on each corner, it could house three hundred prisoners, plus the forty soldiers of the garrison and their commander, the civilian governor and his staff, and the four dozen cooks, orderlies, grooms, and others necessary for the running of the establishment. Wentworth Prison. From the tiny hole in the cart, Claire looked up at the menacing walls of greenish Argyll granite, two feet thick at the base. Master Raymond guided his cart beneath the spiked portcullis that had guarded the gate of Wentworth since its construction in the late sixteenth century. 

Inside the prison, Claire heard guards instructing Master Raymond and his cart. They slowly came to a stop and the guards approached Master Raymond and greeted him courteously.  
“Master Raymond! We are pleased you’ve return again. I spoke with the governor, Sir Fletcher, and it seems we have no records of any woman being admitted to the prison last week.” The guard said in a hushed tone.  
“Oui Monsieur, It seems that I was mistaken. It is the woman’s husband that was taken. His name is James MacKenzie.” Master Raymond said quietly. “I should be very grateful if you could help me locate his whereabouts.”  
The man waved over another guard and spoke quietly to him for a time. The guard then disappeared into the prison.

The man returned to Master Raymond. “Now then, I sent a guard to check with the governor’s office, we shall know soon if your man is here,” the guard told him.  
“My thanks to you, Monsieur,” Master Raymond said. “Since we have some moments, perhaps you will let me inspect your hand?”  
The guard removed his glove and held up his hand to Master Raymond.  
“I see it has spread. You are infected. I have brought you the cure. Take two of these pills everyday for one week.” Master Raymond instructed looking at the rash on the man’s hand.  
“That is all?” The guard asked dubiously.  
“Oui, and as for you, my friend.” Master Raymond motioned to the other guard standing next to him. “Perhaps show me your arm?”  
The other guard lifted his arm and his rash had faded. “Am I cured? I can have a woman again?” He asked.  
“Oui, but perhaps you should find a wife and not visit the brothels? You don’t want to get infected again as the cure is not easily obtainable. You cannot get it from anyone but me in my surgery in France,” Master Raymond told them. He looked at the other guard holding the bottle of pills. “You may stop with the mercury pills. It’s poison and will not cure you. You must take this entire bottle. You must also only drink water for 2 weeks.”  
“Only Water? No ale?” The guard said incredulously.  
“Alcohol weakens the strength of the medicine. Make no mistake, Monseiur, syphilis causes insanity and death. After the first rash, it goes away, so you think the mercury pills are working. Then it comes back later, sometimes after years, worse than before. Then comes insanity and finally, death.” Master Raymond told them solemnly.  
The other guard nodded in agreement. “It’s true, it went away, then it came back” he agreed. “I continued to take mercury, but it kept spreading until I took these pills.”  
“I knew a man, he took the mercury, and the rash eventually went away. He thought he was cured and got married and had a child, the rash came back, and his wife and newborn child both had the disease as well. They all perished. This is the only cure... use it wisely. No more brothels,” Master Raymond warned.

Claire was in the back of the cart listening to Master Raymond and the guards in shock! He had told her he had penicillin yesterday, but she was so frightened by her escape that the information hadn’t really sunk in. _He’s saving their lives!_ she thought. Why... this means Master Raymond is a traveler too! Penicillin wouldn’t be discovered for over another 100 years!

Claire was lost in her thoughts while hiding in the back of Master Raymond’s cart when commotion in the yard brought her back to the present moment. She could hear yelling in the distance, and guards running towards the sound of the screams. Claire looked out the small hole of the cart but could see nothing. The noise continued and Claire grew nervous. Despite her worry, she kept silent. A few moments later, the cart doors opened. Master Raymond looked at her with intense concern.  
“Stay quite Madonna, we have found your Jamie,” he whispered. “Stay here and stay silent.”  
“Where is he? Is he alright? What’s is happening out there? I must know,” she begged him.  
“He is here! Stay quiet. He is about to receive punishment from the Captain. No doubt the Captain is furious with your escape. You cannot be seen. He is going to flog Jamie.” He whispered and closed the door.

 _Flog Jamie!_ Claire anxiously looked around the cart for any more tiny holes in the wood where she could see what was going on. Claire did manage to get a small view across the prison yard. In the distance, she could see guards tying Jamie’s hands to a pole on a raised platform. He’d been stripped of his shirt and struggled against his restraints. Then Claire saw him... Randall. He walked over to Jamie, the whip tucked under his arm, and said something to him while he surveyed Jamie coolly, then moved out of Claire’s view. He motioned for a sergeant-major to turn the prisoner around to show his back. 

A few moments later, Claire heard the first crack of the whip. Randall drew blood with that first lash and within minutes, Jamie’s back was half red and half blue. Jamie didn’t scream, though, or beg for mercy, or twist round to try and save himself. He just set his forehead hard against the post and stood there. He flinched when the lash hit but nothing more. The lashes continued and Claire closed her eyes as silent tears fell from them. Soon, the flogging stopped and Claire peeped out the hole to see Jamie. She could see Randall walking around Jamie speaking to him as Jamie stood there like an oak tree, saying nothing and keeping his eyes fixed on the post. He did not look at Randall at all. Blood ran down Jamie’s back and legs and soaked his kilt. Then the flogging began again. Jamie received lash after lash and Claire squeezed her eyes shut again. _He’s skinning him alive!_ Claire thought in a panic. _He’s going to die_. She had to do something. Claire got up to open the cart door when Master Raymond was in front of her once again.  
“Madonna, I’m going to talk to the governor of the garrison,” he informed her. “You stay hidden, I have guards on you.” Master Raymond reached inside the cart and dragged out another small bag of coins. He gave Claire a clear look of warning. Claire sighed and nodded and sat back in the cart. She closed her eyes and prayed for Jamie to be released.

Claire could hear the lashes continue. She spied Jamie and saw his face was white as a sheet. Blood was pooling around his feet on the platform, yet the lashes continued. Claire could not listen anymore and sat on Master Raymond’s small bed and put the fur over her head. She closed her eyes and silently wept.

After some time, Claire opened her eyes to shouting in the court yard. Some men had interrupted the flogging and were talking with Randall. When the corporal untied Jamie’s hands, he nearly fell, but the corporal and sergeant-major each caught him by an arm and dragged his limp body off the platform. It was over! Claire could no longer see Jamie and frantically moved around the cart for somewhere she could see out of the cart. Claire waited and waited but could not see what was happening.

Claire jumped and almost screamed when the cart doors opened abruptly again. There stood Master Raymond. Two guards were holding Jamie’s limp body and Claire moved to the corner of the cart, terrified that she would be taken.  
Master Raymond instructed the men to put Jamie on the bed. The soldiers put Jamie down face first, his massive chest took up the space on the bed and his legs sprawled on the floor of the cart. Master Raymond handed the guards each a bag of gold coins.  
“Many thanks to you, Gentlemen. I wish you all the luck with the Garrison Commander” He said ominously.  
Both guards looked at each other nervously.  
“You shall not see us again, Gentlemen.” Master Raymond assured them.  
The guards both looked relieved as they thanked Master Raymond while he closed the cart doors.

Claire sat nonplussed crammed into the back of the cart with Jamie while he bled to death. She felt the cart begin to move and sat frozen in place as they slowly made their way out of the prison. Claire looked out the small peep hole and she could see Randall’s eyes on them. He looked positively evil and Claire shuttered. She knew the Captain would come for them again. She hoped that Master Raymond was not in danger now too.

The sun was beginning to go down, as Claire sat in the cramped cart. Master Raymond had not stopped. They continued slowly on as Claire sat next to Jamie putting pressure on his wounds with a blanket. Claire also desperately needed to water more bushes.

The cart finally stopped and Claire was relieved. She hoped they were out of danger, at least long enough for her to empty her bladder. Master Raymond opened the carts doors and Claire jumped out and looked around the grassy fields and saw a stone fence. She ran behind the stone fence and relieved herself. She walked back to the cart.  
“I’m sorry, I’m pregnant Master Raymond. I almost wet myself.” She said.  
“No apologies Madonna, we moved slowly. I have but one horse and I will purchase another. We shall be safe here for the night.”  
“Where are we?” Claire asked looking around.  
“We are at the gates of the Abbey of Ste. Anne de Beaupré.” He informed her.  
They strode through the gates that stood open to allow easy traffic with the nearby village. Master Raymond then introduced himself to the monks that greeted them who wore the robes of a priest. Master Raymond explained we had a injured passenger and then put in the monk’s hands another small bag of coins. Claire watched silently as Master Raymond worked his magic. It seemed as if no one was immune to Master Raymond’s charms. He moved about the world with confidence and purpose and was able to get anyone to do his bidding. Within what seemed like moments later several priests were running into the yard, carrying a large stretcher to move Jamie into the Abbey.

Master Raymond continued to converse with the Abbot, while Claire followed the other monks carrying Jamie. They put Jamie is a small clean room and left Claire alone with him. Claire took a chair next to the bed and sat with Jamie. Her diagnostic sense told her he was still alive. She checked his pulse, but it was weak, he had lost a lot of blood and he was in danger of going into shock. Master Raymond entered the room moments later.  
“Shall we get to work, Madonna?” He asked.  
Claire nodded as Master Raymond approached the bed with a bag. He opened the bag and produced a bottle of morphine and a syringe.  
“He fell in the dirt when we were bringing him to the cart. We have to clean his wounds. He will be in a lot of pain,” he said.  
Claire nodded as she looked at Jamie. He was still unconscious and his pulse was weak.  
“Not too much though. He could die,” she said. She touched Jamie’s arm. He lost a lot of blood, he was barely breathing.  
“Wait, Master Raymond...” she said. Claire put her hands upon him... and just then... she felt no heartbeat. He was going in shock.  
“He’s dying!” Claire exclaimed.


	31. The Abbey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jamie heals, he tells Claire something he’s discovered about himself after a close brush with death

Claire’s diagnostic sense was never wrong. Jamie’s heart was not beating, he was dying.  
“Help me!” She cried out to Master Raymond and they flipped Jamie’s limp body onto his wounded back. Claire then began in earnest to perform CPR to get his heart beating again. She touched his cold flesh. Yes, there is life in there. _Bring him back._ She began resuscitation to no avail. Jamie’s heart was not beating.  
“Damn you!” Claire said. And then she slid her left hand under his neck, clamped her right fingers on his nose, and breathed into his mouth. Her mind worked with him, envisioning the warm air pumped into him. But it seemed forever that she breathed, and nothing was changing in the mass, that was her husband, beneath her.  
She switched to his chest, pressing down as hard as she could on the breastbone, then releasing the pressure, over and over for fifteen beats. “Come on, breathe!” she said, as if it were a curse. “Damn it, breathe!” Then she went back to mouth-to-mouth.  
She simply went on, alternating between the chest massage and the lung inflation, stopping only now and then to feel the lifeless carotid artery, and to realize that the diagnostic message was the same—Alive—before she continued.

“Jesus H. Christ! Where did you come from?” Jamie heard Claire exclaim as he was lying naked on a cold surface; too wounded to move.  
“It’s alright, you’re going to be alright” she whispered as she kneeled beside him. “I’m going to get some things to clean you up. Stay right here and don’t try to crawl anywhere else in the hospital.” She said.  
Jamie looked at Claire in her white dress in the brightly lit and unfamiliar room. _Where the hell am I? Why does Claire look different?_ The light in the room was blinding him.  
“Sorcha” he whispered. Jamie then closed his eyes and felt someone the beating on his chest. 

“You know you can hear me!” Claire shouted as she pressed down again on the breastbone. She pictured the heart and the lungs in all their glorious anatomical detail. She pushed as much power from her hands into him as possible. Then as she made to lift his neck again, his eyes snapped open, and his face suddenly fired with life. His chest gave a heave against her; she felt the breath pour out of him, hot against her face. “That’s it, breathe!” she shouted.  
Like a corpse coming back to life on an embalming table, Jamie slowly opened his eyes. His right hand shot up and took hold of hers.  
A lovely ripple of relief passed through Claire. “Jamie!” She cried. “You’re going to be just fine.”  
His eyes then slowly closed. His breaths came ragged yet rapid, his face knotted with pain.  
“That’s it... breathe!” Claire said with relief.

Master Raymond looked on with pleasant smile. “I never thought I would meet another healer as talented as my Espy. But, Madonna, you and Espy are one and the same,” he said with admiration.  
“I think we should move him on his stomach. He’s in a lot of pain,” she said and they laid him back on his belly.  
Claire looked at his backside. His flesh was torn, and in parts, muscle was flayed off.  
“Oh Master Raymond...” she said pitifully.  
Jamie groaned as he moved in the bed and Claire checked his pulse again. It was weak but still steady.  
Master Raymond opened his medical bag. “We must disinfect the wounds, then you may stitch him.”

While Master Raymond assisted Claire with Jamie’s wounds, she began to learn what really happened at the prison.  
“It is very good you stayed unseen during the flogging. I have reason to believe the Captain made such a public spectacle to lure you out of hiding. He knows you did not get far.” Master Raymond informed her.  
“Why did he flog Jamie? What were his charges?” Claire asked.  
“Kidnapping. The Captain has authority over you Madonna. He has a marriage certificate. He claims to be your husband.”  
“Marriage! That bloody bastard! I never married Captain Randall!” She exclaimed.  
“The documents are falsified. I am aware of that, however, had he seen you, he could still have made the claim. Since many of the soldiers are illiterate, I would have been powerless against the man. I didn’t realize until it was too late how dangerous it was for you in that prison. Had I known, I would have left you in the cave.”  
“How did you get Jamie released?” She asked.  
“Since the Captain had no proof of kidnapping, I bribed the governor to release Jamie. The Captain could not produce a wife when questioned. Espy also has some very powerful friends of the crown. Since Jamie has no formal charges against his name, I threatened Sir Fletcher with our connections and charges of wrongful torture. He decided to accept the bribe and release Jamie.”  
“What about the Captain?” Claire asked. “Can he... arrest us?”  
“Well, the Captain was to be reprimanded after we left the prison. We are not criminals, but Madonna... I’m sorry... but you are still in great danger. I do not know what the Captain will plan next, nor do I wish to find out.” 

Claire spent most of the night tending to Jamie’s back. She used Master Raymond’s rather modern surgical tools to stitch Jamie’s wounds and stop the blood loss. When she was satisfied she did as much as she could, she finally went to another small bed chamber the monks had provided for her. Realizing how tired she was, Claire sank down into the bed and quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, Claire rose very late and left her small bedchamber. She missed the morning meal and wandered around the Abbey in search of the kitchens when she came upon some monks.  
“Good morning. I’m grateful for your hospitality,” She said, meaning it. “Have—have you seen Jamie?”  
The monks had taken Jamie away to be bathed, a process in which Claire thought she better not assist.  
The Abbot nodded. “Oh, aye,” he said, a faint Scots accent showing through the cultured English. “I’ve seen him. I’ve set Brother Ambrose to tend his wounds.”  
Claire looked dubiously at the monk.  
“Do not worry, Madame; Brother Ambrose is most competent.” He said dryly.  
“I thank you kindly,” Claire replied.  
“Monsieur Raymond said that you are an accomplished physician yourself.”  
“I am,” Claire said bluntly.  
This provoked a smile. “I see that you do not suffer from the sin of false modesty,” he observed.  
“I have others,” Claire said, smiling back.  
“So do we all,” he said. “Brother Ambrose will be eager to converse with you, I’m sure.”  
“I will send a serving brother to bring you some food.” He looked Claire over once more. “And some facilities for washing.”  
“I thank you again,” Claire replied.

After breakfast and a bath, Claire went to check on Jamie. A monk was tending to his bandages.  
Jamie heaved a long sigh of relief, then winced, ribs hurting.  
“What are ye wearing, Claire?” Jamie asked as he looked her up and down.  
“Oh, it’s one of the brother’s robes. My dress was filthy and the monks are washing my riding dress and your kilt. Hopefully it can be salvaged,” she informed him as walked over to the bed.  
“You’ve opened up your back a bit,” Claire said, turning him slightly to get at the bandages. “Not bad, though.”  
“I know,” He shuddered, took a sip of the water, then handed her the cup. “I need something a bit stronger, if it’s handy.”  
“Alcohol or morphine?” Master Raymond asked Jamie walking in the room. “You may have your choice of oblivions.”  
“I’ll have the wine, if ye please. I’ve had enough bad dreams.”

He drank the wine slowly, as Claire and Master Raymond changed the stained bandages, smoothing fresh ointment over the wounds. Master Raymond administered some penicillin to stave off a fever. They then resettled Jamie for more rest and sleep, back firmly propped and coverlet drawn up. Passing the bed, Master Raymond bent over Jamie. “Rest well, Monsieur Jamie.”  
“Thank ye.” Jamie answered drowsily, clearly half-asleep already.  
Claire followed Master Raymond out into the corridor.  
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m most grateful for your help.”  
“I am pleased to be able to assist you, Madonna,” he said. “But now, we also must start making our travel plans to France.”  
“Of course! But... so soon? What about Jamie? He won’t be able to travel for some time with his injuries.”  
Master Raymond looked at her sympathetically. “Oui, you are right. That is why we must travel alone—It is dangerous to wait too long. You can write a letter to his clan of his whereabouts.”  
“And what? Leave him here? Alone? I can’t do that,” Claire replied.  
Master Raymond sighed. “Think on it, Madonna,” he said. “I’m going to take a long walk and get some air. I have not seen Neige for some time.”

Claire went back to her small bed chamber and fell upon her pillow and cried. She knew Master Raymond was right, they had to leave Scotland soon. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jamie behind.

After a long nap, Claire spent the rest of the afternoon reading in the Abbey’s library. She needed time alone to clear her head and to relax. The monks invited her to supper, and after a light meal of stew and some fresh baked bread, Claire went to check on Jamie again. She stepped into the room and he was asleep again, breathing lightly, with a slight frown creasing his brow. Claire decided to let him sleep and took the opportunity to get to sleep early herself.

Claire felt much better in the morning, but Jamie was hollow-eyed and queasy after the painful night. He emphatically rejected any suggestion of caudle or broth for breakfast, and snapped irritably at Claire when she tried to check the dressings on his back.  
“For Christ’s sake, Claire, will ye no leave me alone! I dinna want to be poked at any more!” He pushed her hand away scowling.  
“What is it, Jamie? Are you in a lot of pain? I can get some morphine from Master Raymond,” Claire asked gingerly.  
Jamie continued to lay on the bed in grim silence.  
“What can I do to help you? Don’t sulk, for heaven’s sake!” Claire said impatiently.  
“Sulking!” he said. “Sulking, is it? I’m using all the self-control I’ve got, to keep from shakin’ ye ’til your teeth rattle, and you tell me not to sulk!”  
“What in the name of God is the matter with you?” Claire exclaimed.  
“What’s the matter wi’ me? I’ll tell ye what the matter is, since ye want to know!” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m tired of fearing for your safety. And I’m verra tired of fearing that ye are dead. And I’m _verra_ tired of Randall trying to make me watch while he rapes you! I dinna enjoy it a bit!”  
“And you think I enjoy it?” Claire yelled. “Are you trying to make out it’s my fault?!”  
“It is your fault! If ye stayed put in the castle where I ordered ye to stay before I left Leoch, this would never have happened! But no, ye won’t listen to me, I’m no but your husband, why mind me? You do as ye damn please, and next I ken, I find ye locked in prison, an’ the worst scum in the land on the point of takin’ ye before my eyes!”  
“You’re a brute and a fool,” Claire panted, “Do you think I went out and got captured by the English on purpose? It’s your bloody pride that’s hurt!” she shouted. “I saved us both from Wentworth and you can’t stand it, can you?”  
Jamie glared at her, panting with emotion. When he spoke again, his voice was low and ragged with passion. “You saw when I was tied to that post in the yard, tied like an animal, and whipped while my blood ran?”  
Claire nodded slowly.  
“I’ll carry the scars from it ’til I die. And I would do it again for you and the bairn! When you were escaping from the prison, just as you entered the secret hallway, two guards came through the halls and saw me. Instead of following ye to escape, I led the guards on a merry chase in another direction. So you could escape with the bairn. I did it for you, Claire.”  
“Oh Jamie...” Claire said.  
“I didn’t hesitate for one minute leading the guards away from ye knowing it likely they’d have flogged me, then hanged me.” He then looked away from her. They both kept silent for a moment. The air was thick with emotion. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “Aye, you’re quite right.” Suddenly the rage was gone from his voice.  
“My pride is hurt.” His head dropped onto the pillows, exhausted. His voice was so low she could barely hear him. “I keep seeing visions of Captain Randall and his hands on your naked body. I cannae stop seeing his face... his hands on ye. It’s tearin’ my guts out, Claire.”  
Claire sat down next to him. She ran her fingers gently through his hair. “Thank you for helping me escape from the prison. I’m sorry for what you saw at Wentworth with Randall. I could think of no other way to break free. Please forgive me,” she said gently.  
“Forgiven, lass,” he murmured as he looked back up at Claire. “I’m sorry too,” he said. “I’ll ask your pardon for what I said; I was sore, and I said more than I meant. Will ye forgive me too?”  
Claire nodded. “Can I lay down with you for a bit?”  
Jamie moved slightly and Claire snuggled up next to him. She took his hand gently in her own and Jamie jumped in the bed.  
“Jamie! What on earth is the matter? Are you trying to rip your stitches!” Claire asked angrily.  
“I dinna want to see that scum Randall anymore,” Jamie said coldly.  
“Don’t think about him then, for God’s sake!” Claire replied with annoyance.  
“Dinna touch me again and I willna.” He said flatly.  
“What? Don’t touch you? Like this?” Claire poking his hand with her fingers.  
“Och! Aye! Like that! Dinna touch me! I keep seeing him in my mind when you do that! I cannae stop it!” He shouted.  
“Would you just stop thinking about it!” She cried angrily while standing and exiting the room.

“Claire, wait... he called out. “I’ve seen other things. I saw ye when you were just a lass. When I was bathing, I touched the wee charm ye gave me, and I saw ye.” He said quietly.  
Claire froze and her eyes widened. She was silent as she looked down at her hand. She had touched him with the hand that still was adorned with Frank’s wedding ring. She knew it was bespelled, if Captain Randall was telling the truth.  
“Have you seen anything else?” She asked turning back to Jamie.  
“Aye, whenever I touch something. I can see the last person that had it. I dinna ken what this is,” he said looking at his hands. “I’m sorry I’m so sore with ye Claire, I’ve seen Captain Randall’s face over and over again. His hands touching you,” Jamie said frustrated.  
“Jamie, I’m sorry, but I cannot take off Frank’s ring. It’s impossible! Captain Randall... he... he bespelled the ring... it’s why I’m here. Just... just don’t touch my left hand? Ok? I must leave you now to talk to Master Raymond. I’ll have one of the priests come keep you company,” Claire quickly left the room as Jamie groaned.

Claire ran through the Abbey in search of Master Raymond. She couldn’t find him anywhere. She went outside to walk around the grounds and found him at the stables. He had bought another horse.  
“She’s a beauty, is she not?” Master Raymond asked Claire as he was brushing her down.  
“She is... but that’s not why I’m here. There’s something wrong with Jamie. He says it’s his hands. He touches things and then he says he has visions.” Claire explained in a frenzy. She quickly told Master Raymond everything that just happened in Jamie’s room.  
Master Raymond continued to care for the horse as he listened on unimpressed.  
“Well?” Claire asked panting. “Is this possible?”  
“Oui, it is possible,” he answered.  
“But how?” She asked.  
“Why, from you, Madonna. You have shared some power with him?” He asked.  
“Not that I was aware of...” She replied. “So this is my fault?” Claire looked at the ground. She felt like crying.  
“It is a gift. You will come to see that in time. I also have a small amount of power from so many years with Espy. Don’t fret, Madonna. I will come talk with Jamie soon.” He said and he saddled up his new horse for a ride. 

Claire was feeling a bit depressed over her situation as she walked back to the Abbey. It felt as though things were just going from bad to worse with Jamie. When she returned to Jamie’s room, several monks were taking turns handing him objects and he would tell them about the items.  
One monk handed Jamie a rosary. Jamie told him all about his sister that gave him the rosary, what she said when she gave him the rosary, then he said “your sister is dead.”  
The monks looked spooked and Jamie didn’t realize he was scaring the hell out of them. Claire walked into the room and interrupted.  
“Excuse me, my I have a word alone with my husband?” She asked politely.  
The monks quickly left and Claire stared at Jamie. “What the hell are you doing Jamie?” She said exasperated.  
Jamie drank more wine. “Do ye want to ken about the person that made this cup?” He slurred obviously inebriated.  
“Jamie! You’re scaring the monks! Where are we supposed to go if they ask us to leave? We are safe here! You can’t travel!” She said.  
“Aye, Claire,” he said putting the cup down. “I’ll rest now,” and he turned his face to the pillows and passed out.

Later that evening, when Claire was bringing Jamie his supper, Master Raymond returned.  
“I have a solution for your problem, Madonna.” He told her with a smile.  
“You do? That’s a relief!” Claire said. She took a deep breath and finally relaxed a bit. Thank heavens for Master Raymond.  
“Oui! Let us tend to Jamie now.” He said.  
Master Raymond cheerfully greeted Jamie as he entered his chambers.  
“Monsieur Jamie, I have heard about your problem, and I have brought you a gift.” He stated.  
“Claire told you about my hands?” He asked cautiously.  
“Oui,” he replied and handed Jamie a small package.  
Jamie opened it to find a new pair of gloves.  
“That’s your solution? Gloves?” Claire asked suddenly irritated.  
“Try it,” he said nodding to Jamie.  
Jamie put the gloves on. Claire then reached over and touched Jamie’s hand over the glove. He did not flinch.  
“See? It works. Jamie, you may wear gloves when you want to block the sight. Now, we have another problem. The redcoats are patrolling nearby. I’m not certain we will be safe here much longer. We must leave tomorrow.” Master Raymond said matter of factly.  
“Tomorrow! But Jamie is still hurt!” Claire said. The day just got worse and worse.  
“He will ride in the cart and we will tend him on the road,” Master Raymond said as he left them alone in the room.  
“Dinna fash, I can manage Claire. I doesna hurt so bad anymore.” Jamie said quietly while he was preoccupied looking at his hands in the gloves.  
“I suppose I can touch ye wearing the gloves,” Jamie said absentmindedly.  
Claire then burst into tears and ran out of the room to the solace of her own bedchambers.


	32. Stories around a campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Raymond divulges what he knows about the evil spirit. Jamie’s new power makes him oversexed for Claire!

Master Raymond packed up his cart early the next morning. He had outfitted the inside of the cart to accommodate the massive form that was Jamie. Most of Master Raymond’s possessions had been moved and tied to the top of the cart and Jamie would be able to lay inside comfortable on his belly.

Claire bathed and dressed in her cleaned clothes. _The monks worked a miracle with my riding dress,_ she thought to herself as she tied the laces. She thought her clothes had been ruined in the prison. There were still some small holes and tears in the garment, but the worst of the dirt and blood stains had been removed. She left her chambers and found Master Raymond with the monks breaking their fast. Brother Ambrose was preparing a tray for Jamie.  
“I’ll bring that to him,” Claire volunteered. He nodded and put extra bread and a bowl of simple stew for Claire before handing her the tray. She walked to Jamie’s room feeling slightly nervous. Yesterday was a bad day. Jamie needed to heal and had this new problem with his hands. And what did she do? She left his room in tears. She knew pregnancy was making her more emotional than usual, but she felt she had acted selfishly.

Claire opened the door to Jamie’s bedchamber.  
“Knock, knock,” she said as she walked into the room.  
Jamie lifted his head up sleepily. Still lying flat on his belly, he winced in pain as he tried to sit up.  
“Good morrow, Claire.” he croaked.  
Claire put the tray on a table next to the bed and helped Jamie to prop himself up on his side.  
“How are you feeling this morning?” She asked gingerly while handing him a small bowl of soup to sip. He was still wearing the gloves.  
“I feel like I’ve been skinned alive... and now with my hands, I’m crazy as a loon,” he replied gruffly.  
“You’re not crazy Jamie. I’m sorry you’re hurting and we have to leave today. But you will be able to rest in the cart comfortably.” she said sympathetically. “I’m also sorry for crying and running out of her last night,” she added.  
“Forgiven, lass,” he answered.  
In an easier silence, they finished their morning meal. But Claire felt there was still a vague sense of injury and constraint; things were not yet healed between them.

They left the Abbey with the blessings of the monks and began their journey back to Leoch. With a second horse, they moved faster along the roads. Claire sat in the cart and kept Jamie warm and comfortable. With the fleeting Scottish summer quickly fading away, the air was becoming a bit crisp and chilly.

Claire and Jamie fell into easy conversation on the road. Jamie asked Claire about her childhood and what it was like in the 20th century. Claire talked for a long time about all the modern conveniences, such as hot showers, telephones and cars.  
“You ken, Claire... I remember you asked me for a telephone. I thought ye were daft,” Jamie said laughing.  
“You thought I was daft!” Claire said in surprise. “Then why did you ask me to marry you if you thought I was daft? We had only known each other a few days! I thought you part of a strange historical society that wore highlander costumes!” Claire shook her head in disbelief.  
Jamie’s face then changed. Amusement turned to desire as looked at her through half lidded eyes.  
“I didna care if you were daft. You were too beautiful. I wanted ye, Claire,” he said huskily staring at her lips.  
Claire felt tingles run down her spine. “Do you still want me?” She whispered.  
“Aye, I want ye so much that it hurts,” he replied. Just then the cart hit a bump. “Ouch!” Jamie said through clenched teeth.  
“Do you want some more blankets for padding? I don’t want you to open any wounds on your back,” Claire asked as she looked at his back for any rips in the stitches.  
“It’s no’ my back that hurts,” he said.  
“Oh,” Claire said with surprise realizing he had become aroused. She tried to change the subject. “Since I told you about my childhood and the 20th century... maybe you could help me find out the things I don’t know? Uncle Lamb gave me this necklace when I was 16. It belonged to my mother. Maybe if you touch it, you could see something?”  
“I dinna want to take off the gloves.”  
“But Jamie, you must! We have time now... and I may never know if you don’t help me!” Claire begged. “Just the necklace... please?”  
Jamie looked at her dubiously, then acquiesced. If he was honest with himself, he was curious as well. He removed a glove from one hand as Claire shifted closer to him. She took off the necklace and put it in his hand. Jamie closed his hand around the small stone and closed his eyes. Already, he was getting images, but he continued to hold on to the necklace.  
Claire sat impatiently waiting for Jamie to speak. He held her necklace in his hand and did not say a thing. After what seemed like and hour, but was really 5 minutes, Claire poked at Jamie.  
Jamie abruptly opened his eyes and handed Claire her necklace.  
“Well?” She asked. “What did you see?”  
“Claire... I saw ye... in your own time.”  
“That’s all? What was I doing?”  
“Nay. You were happy. I saw you with your Uncle Lamb. It was brief flashes. I canna explain it,” Jamie sighed. “Claire... do ye... do ye want to go back to your own time? Leave this place? It may be safer for ye there... and the bairn.” Jamie said sadly putting his glove on again.  
Claire moved closer to him. “No! No, I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with you, Jamie.” She assured him.  
“But what about Randall? Ye can escape him and all the misery of this time.”  
“No... I can’t Jamie. Randall was there too... in the future. In my time, I married Frank Randall... a descendant of Captain Randall... That is how I got this ring... it’s cursed, and I think it made me travel back in time... when I first awoke in the circle of stones in this century, the first person I saw was Captain Randall. The possessed Captain Randall... He seemed to be... expecting me, well, my mother actually. Murtagh saved me from him that day,” She said with a sigh.  
Jamie looked confused as Claire continued.  
“He’s an evil spirit, I suppose. I don’t know what to call it... but Captain Randall... whoever he was... is dead. That spirit possessed his body. I think the spirit was trying to do the same to you in the prison. When he made you get sick and vomit. He was trying to leave Captain Randall’s body and possess yours, Jamie.”  
“I feel like I might be sick again,” Jamie said remembering the experience. “I remember very little except feeling like my body was being pulled apart in every direction and I couldna breathe.”  
“Jamie please... don’t think about it,” Claire said soothing over his hair.  
“My body burned all over and I could hear ye calling my name. The wee charm ye gave me... it was hot and my whole body felt like it was burning.”  
“Remember your promise never to take it off. It gives protection against evil spirits. That is why I gave it to you in the prison.... when I knew what Randall really was.”  
“Aye, Claire. I willna take it off. I saw what it really was. It was all darkness and faceless.”  
“I want to go to France with Master Raymond, to meet Espy Thomson. I think she may have the answers and can help.”  
“So ye are going to leave me, just not for your own time,” Jamie said quietly.  
“No... I’m not leaving you! Not unless you don’t want to come with me. Our plan was to be married and go to France... remember? Unless, you don’t want to marry me anymore? I have a curse on me and you’re at risk of the same danger as long as you’re with me.” Claire swallowed hard. She wanted Jamie to have a choice and not feel an obligation.  
“I willna leave your side ever Claire. I will come to France with you. You canna live your life with this shadow hanging over ye. We will marry at once and you shall have the protection of my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well. The man willna lay hands on ye again, while I live.”  
“Oh Jamie! I love you!” Claire said and leaned down and kissed his lips.  
“I love ye, Claire.”

At sunset, they made a small camp in the woods near a river lined with giant rocks. Master Raymond made a fire to prepare a stew with the meat he had bought from the small crofters along the road.  
Claire left the camp to go to the river to fill up some jugs with water and to wash up.  
When she stood after washing her hands and face, she heard a noise and whirled around to see Jamie standing being her.  
“Jamie! You frightened me! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She said breathlessly.  
“Claire...” he said stepping forward.  
“Jamie, you shouldn’t be walking around with your back! You could rip open the wounds.” She chastised.  
“I dinna care. I need ye... I have missed ye,” he said stepping close to her. He took her arm and led her to the large rocks near the river. He pushed her against a huge tall slanting stone.  
“Jamie, I don’t think we should do this now... “ Claire began as Jamie lifted her head and silenced her with his lips. He gave her a deep almost brutal kiss. Then withdrew and looked her in the eye as he removed his gloves.  
“You’re not afraid of your hands?”  
“Nay, I need to feel ye... It’s been too long... I canna wait.” he said as his big hands lifted her skirts high around her waist. He moved his hand to the apex of her thighs and rubbed his hand over her mound. He parted her folds and found her clit and ran his finger around it.  
“I want to feel you Claire... And this hiding wee jewel.” He kept caressing it as he watched her face.  
Claire’s breath began to quicken and she leaned back against the stone keeping her left hand with Randall’s ring against the stone and away from Jamie.  
Claire moaned quietly, “Jamie, more....”  
He put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her hips up to meet his own. He had lifted his kilt and she could feel his hard thick shaft against her center. He rubbed along her soft folds teasing her even more until Claire began to shake with need. 

Jamie made a low, primitive sound in his chest as he nudged his swollen cockhead to her slick folds. This time when he pressed, he was all in, hard and thick, and plowed so deep Claire felt it in her soul. For a moment neither of them moved, captivated by the ecstasy of joining. Then, so slowly that it made her gasp, Jamie drew out of her and pumped back in. She gripped his arms as he did and circled her hips, caressing his shaft with her own softness. He groaned and stroked her again, igniting all the sensitive nerves inside her body.  
Claire wrapped her legs around him tighter as she lifted her hips into his deep, hard thrusts. Jamie’s hands gently squeezed her buttocks as he thrust into her, while his breath whispered against her nape, and then her ear as he traced the outer curve with his tongue.  
When he kissed her shoulder, Claire stiffened, and then felt his teeth. The love bite he gave her made insides tighten, and her mind explode with bliss. The climax went on and on. Jamie’s voice urged her through the waves of delight, whispering soft words in Gaelic against her ear, and just as she reached the final peak he jerked against her. His cock pulsing while releasing himself into the center of her pleasure.

Jamie held her pressed against him and the large rock for a few moments as their shudders subsided then he gently set her down. Claire’s legs were a bit wobbly as she moved to get her water jugs while Jamie put his gloves back on.  
“Jamie... did you see anything... when you touched me?” She asked gently. Claire couldn’t help the curiosity. Did his power work with humans? Or just objects? She didn’t understand this new magic he had.  
“Nay, I saw and felt naught but your pleasure, my love” he replied with a sated smile and a twinkle in his eyes.  
Claire’s diagnostic sense kicked in. He wasn’t lying but she had a feeling there was more that he wasn’t telling her.

They went back to the camp where Master Raymond was cooking their supper. Claire smiled sheepishly as she gave Master Raymond more jugs of water. Claire and Jamie were just getting comfortable around the camp when Jamie suddenly jumped.  
“What’s wrong?” Claire asked. “Don’t move so abruptly. You have hundreds of stitches in your back Jamie.”  
“I need my sword,” he said.  
“Whatever for? Do you need it right now?”  
“Claire, there’s a wolf in the woods...”  
“Is it white?”  
“Aye... ye saw it?” Jamie was surprised.  
“Yes, it’s Master Raymond’s wolf. He protects us. Jamie please sit now and eat.”  
Jamie sat down skeptically as Master Raymond brought them their food. Master Raymond then joined them around the fire with his own bowl of stew.  
“I’ve never seen a pet wolf,” Jamie remarked looking through the trees of the forest for the beast.  
“Ah, Niege... He’s been a great help to me in my search for Claire,” Master Raymond replied.  
“This is delicious, thank you!” Claire said after she took a spoonful of the savory stew.  
“Indeed... we thank ye for all you’ve done,” Jamie added.  
“You are very welcome, my friends. And I see Jamie is feeling a bit better?” Master Raymond asked knowingly.  
Claire blushed.  
“Aye, much better. But I do have some questions for ye... if ye dinna mind?” Jamie asked.  
“Not at all my young friend,” Master Raymond replied as he dunked some bread into his stew.  
“That thing, that captured Claire... the evil spirit... Can he possess people? Is he the devil?” Jamie asked slowly hoping he wouldn’t make Claire angry.  
“Jamie! Really? First you call me a witch, now you think the devil wants me!” Claire snapped back.  
“I had rather hoped that Espy would be the one to explain it to you. But, since Jamie has seemed to absorb some of your power, perhaps I can tell you what I know.” Master Raymond said.  
Claire shot Jamie a cold look with a slight frown on her face.  
“Please do.... I would like to hear everything you know,” Claire replied.  
“You may call the spirit the devil or anything you please. Espy and I call him ‘le monstre’... He isn’t human. Not anymore. But he was once a human... married to your ancestor, Elizabeth Thomson. Elizabeth is the origin of magic in your clan and it’s from her you and Espy inherited your own powers. Elizabeth and her clan lived in the Northern Isles of Orkney and Shetland. No doubt a great many of legends exist there from the Thomson clan...” Master Raymond paused.  
“Selkie Island... are Claire’s ancestors selkies?” Jamie asked in disbelief.  
Master Raymond laughed. “I don’t know, but no doubt there have been legends drawn from Elizabeth’s life. What we know about the spirit is he tried to steal her power. He was a greedy and evil man. When Elizabeth realized this, she banished him from the Isles and he was so angry that he killed Elizabeth and in the process he cursed himself.”  
“He cursed himself by killing my ancestor? Does that mean that anyone that kills a Thomson become like him? Also, how did he steal power?” Claire asked.  
“No, Elizabeth was special. And as you can see from Jamie’s hands, it’s possible to share power. We don’t know how he stole Elizabeth’s powers. What happened in those ancient times is still a mystery. We think perhaps the magic he stole from Elizabeth turned dark when her blood was on his hands. Since that time, he cannot live nor can he die. The only way to take human form is by necromancing.” Master Raymond explained.  
“Necromancing?” Claire asked.  
“Oui. He’s a necromancer. He can seduce a man into giving up his body and soul. Then he inhabits their lifeless body and knows what they know, so he can resume living their life.”  
“So I was right in thinking Captain Randall was dead then. I felt no life or heartbeat. How can he possess a dead man’s body?” Claire asked.  
“He has powerful dark magic. He cannot inhabit a body for long, eventually even his magic will not sustain the flesh and it will die. Espy told me a terrible story of how ‘le monstre’ would not give up a body he inhabited for too many years and take spirit form again. The body was half rotten away with oozing flesh and even bones exposed. Imagine the site of a living rotted corpse? He was captured by a village mob and burned on a pyre. Many tales have been told over the years to frighten children about ‘le monstre’!” He told them.  
“I noticed when I was at Wentworth that Captain Randall had signs of gangrene on his fingers.” Claire said in disgust. “How long can he live in a body?” She asked.  
“I don’t know precisely, but according to Espy, we think perhaps 10 years. The more time he spends in a body, the more obvious it becomes that he is dead” He replied.  
“What does he want with me? Or my mother?” Claire asked.  
“He thinks he can break his own curse with Elizabeth’s descendants. Whether that is possible or not, we don’t know. Espy doesn’t think it is possible.” Master Raymond sighed. “The only choice for you, Madonna, is to learn from Espy. She knows how to keep ‘le monstre’ from being a danger to herself or any other Thomson.”  
“I can’t wait to meet her. Um... about the penicillin? How do you have modern medicine? I arrived here through the circle of stones at Craigh na Dun. Can others travel through time entering the circle of stones?” Claire asked.  
“Espy is the one who knows how to move through time. The stones at Craig na Duhn come from your Isles. They were placed there by your ancestors during Elizabeth’s lifetime. There is a great deal of magic contained within them.” Master Raymond sighed. “I know you must have many more questions, but we shall leave them for another day. Tomorrow will be a long day of travel and I must get some rest.”  
“Thank you Master Raymond. We should all get some sleep now. Tomorrow will be a long day,” Claire replied. She looked at Jamie. He was quiet and she could see he was processing all that he heard from Master Raymond.  
“We should get ready for sleep,” she whispered to Jamie.  
Jamie looked at her with a soft smile.  
“Aye... Madonna.” He said softly and kissed her on her forehead.

Their next day on the road was much the same as the last. Jamie was healing rapidly and they made good time with two horses. Claire spent most of her day trying to convince Jamie to take off his gloves and touch objects. We he finally agreed, the outcome was disastrous. Jamie had touched a fur that Claire had hid under crying while Jamie was being whipped by Captain Randall. After that, it no longer seemed like a fun game and Jamie’s mood grew irritable.

By the end of the day, they reached a town and were able to get rooms at a small inn. Claire was looking forward to a hot bath and a clean bed. While Master Raymond took his horses to the stable with the InnKeeper, Jamie and Claire went into a small tavern for supper. They ordered 3 ales and 3 servings of the dish they were serving for supper that night and relaxed.  
“We are almost to Leoch,” Claire said to Jamie after taking a sip of ale. She glanced around the tavern. The main room was not very crowded, warm and smoky, a snug refuge from the outdoors. There were a few women seated on the benches that ran along the walls, but most of the patrons were men. Here and there was a man in the well-kept dress of a merchant, but most men with homes to go to were in them at this hour; the tavern hosted a mix of soldiers, laborers and apprentices, with an odd drunkard for variety.  
“Aye, when did Master Raymond say he was leaving for France?” Jamie asked.  
“He would like to leave as soon as possible,” Claire paused, “But I told him I must wait until you are healed enough to make that trip.”  
“I will be well soon enough. I dinna want to stay at Leoch for long. I dinna ken if you will be safe their either,” Jamie said. 

Just then Master Raymond walked in. He sat down and gratefully drank a copious amount of ale.  
“It looks like the weather holds... I was expecting rain, but luck is on our side... we shall be back to your castle tomorrow.” He said.  
A large plump woman in a grimy bodice and skirt with a kind face walked over and put their supper on the table which consisted of sliced beef and turnips.  
Claire took a bite of the meat and quickly drank more ale. It was overly salty. She looked at Master Raymond as he made a face chewing the meat. Claire longed for the delicious stew he had made them last night.  
“How is it that you can cook so well, Master Raymond,” she asked.  
“Because I am French, of course,” he replied. “Only in France do they know how to prepare a delicious meal. It is an art.”  
“Indeed it is,” she replied.  
Master Raymond finished his ale and got up. “I think I will retire now, we will leave after the morning meal. Goodnight friends .”  
They bid Master Raymond goodnight and Claire watched as Jamie finished his beef, then hers.  
“Your appetite is back. So are you in much pain?” She asked.  
“Nay, but I’m ready to go to bed as well.” He replied and gave her a knowing look.  
“To bed or to sleep? Do you mind if I have a bath sent up?” she asked.  
Jamie’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s quit this tavern now.”

The tavern’s proprietor showed them to their room, which was not too small to hold a large bed, a table and two chairs. Servants followed behind carrying their bath with they filled with hot water. When the bath was filled, Claire and Jamie were finally alone.  
“Let me help you untie your laces,” Jamie said. And Claire turned around as he helped her out of her riding dress.  
“Let me help you out of your shirt. I need to check your bandages.” Claire helped Jamie out of his shirt without touching his wounded back.  
“Take off your shift,” Jamie said huskily.  
“Let me check your back...”  
“Later,” he growled as he untied he shift and it fell to the floor. Claire stood in the room naked looking at Jamie.  
He unbelted his kilt and stripped the rest of his clothes off too so he was soon naked as well.  
“Let me help you with your bath,” he said.  
Claire walked slowly over to the tub. She had wanted a bath but she wasn’t sure what Jamie had in mind. Claire slipped into the bath and Jamie brought a stool behind her head.  
“I’m going to wash your hair,” he said softly taking off his gloves.  
“I remember the first time you washed my hair,” she replied.  
Jamie made a sound that was a cross between Scottish noise and a low growl.  
He soaped and rinsed her hair then began soaping her body. He spent a long time at her breasts, gently circling her nipples and teasing her. Claire closed her eyes as tingling sensations ran through her body. She was becoming very aroused. Jamie moved to the side of the tub, and began soaping her legs. Claire looked at him and his blue eyes looked almost dark with enlarge pupils. She looked between his legs and he was very aroused. He worked the soap then between her legs, teasing her again, massaging her center. Claire began to sit up. It was too much.  
“Jamie, we’ll get to that. Let me help you while the water is still warm,” she demanded.  
Jamie sat in the tub and Claire removed his bandages. She poured some clean water on him being careful with his wounds.  
“Clean yourself while I work on your back,” she said handing him the soap.  
Claire went to the small bag Master Raymond had given her for some ointment. She inspected Jamie’s back and it seemed to be healing very fast. It had scabbed over nicely and the worst parts didn’t have any infection. She applied the antibiotic ointment and thought the stitches could come out soon. 

Jamie then began to get out of the tub.  
“What are you doing, I’m not done!” She cried.  
“Later, Claire. That can wait.” He said and he grabbed a clean linen and dried himself as he walked to the bed to sit. “Come” he motioned for her.  
Claire sat next to him on the bed and Jamie still had a strange look in his eyes. He began to touch her breasts again, this time also kissing them lightly then gently suckling her nipples as he cupped her breasts. Because of the pregnancy, her breasts were very sensitive and he was arousing her immensely. She reached to touch his hard length and he pushed her hand away.  
“No’ yet,” he whispered. “You like this Claire?” He asked as he took her hardened nipple into his mouth.  
“Very much,” she said.  
“I kent it,” Jamie replied and pushed her back on the bed.  
He knelt on the floor between her legs that were still hanging off the side and spread them.  
Before Claire could blink he had his head between her thighs and his mouth on her, his tongue licking from her clenching opening to the swollen nub of her clit. He held her hips down as he kissed her and she couldn’t move. It added an element of helplessness that thrilled her until she was gasping.  
Claire cried out as she felt him work two long, thick fingers into her opening, pumping them in and out as he suckled her clit. Then his thumb rubbed lower against the tiny pucker of her rosebud, pressing in as he penetrated her with his fingers, and every nerve in her body went into overload. He brought her to a heart-bursting climax then he brought her down by nuzzling her, and then back up to a second peak, so fast and hard it was as if the first had never happened. 

Jamie kissed her still tingling center once more before standing up to lay beside her.  
Claire quickly sat up. “Don’t move,” she said as he was standing between her legs and she grabbed his pulsing cock. Looking up at him, she parted her lips over his cockhead and kissed him, lapping away the beads of semen. Jamie’s eyelids drooped as he shuddered, and his hands came up to tangle in her hair.  
Claire imprisoned him with her lips, capturing him and suckling lightly. Using her tongue to rub and tease him as she made love to him with her mouth, she took him as deeply as she could. What simply wouldn’t fit she clasped with her fingers and gently squeezed as she tugged with her lips.  
The more she sucked Jamie, the deeper he groaned. His thighs tightened as his cock swelled and he shook as if he might come apart. When he tried to lift her face, Claire held onto him and sucked his cock steadily, giving him the final push over the edge.  
Jamie came like a fountain, his body jerking as his seed pulsed over her tongue. Claire swallowed, relishing the spicy-salt taste of him. On some level she felt as if she’d enslaved him, and yet on another she’d become his devoted servant. She wanted a hundred nights with him to do this again, a thousand. Knowing they might never get that chance and the danger she was in made it all the more precious.  
Claire used her tongue to caress him as she released him at last, and looked up to see the stunned pleasure glowing in his eyes.  
“I loved that and I love you,” she whispered.  
Jamie sat next to her to kiss her, “I love ye, Mo nighean dubh.” He grabbed his gloves and put them back on.  
“I dinna want to ken who was in this bed,” he said and then pulled her to him as he laid down and quickly fell asleep. 

As Jamie slept, Claire finished putting ointment on his back, the bandages would have to wait until morning. She covered Jamie and put on her shift then signaled a servant in the hallway to take the bath away before snuffing out the oil lamps in their room and settling in for sleep herself.  
Sometime later during the night, Claire was awoken with Jamie’s hands on her again without the gloves. She was lying on her side naked and his body was pressed behind her and his arms wrapped around her. One hand was on her breast and another rubbing between her legs making her aroused. She could feel his cock pressed against her... rubbing between her legs from behind but he did not enter her. Claire moaned and lifted her leg to rest on his calf as she pushed her backside into him; silently giving him permission.  
“Mo nighean dubh,” Jamie whispered as he pushed his hard cock deeply into her wet heat. He moved against her slowly while holding her firmly against his chest. They rocked together gently against each other for what felt like hours. As Jamie caressed her body, Claire saw a faint glow, it seemed to come off of Jamie’s hands. Then Claire was once again shattered by a powerful climax followed by Jamie’s and they both fell to sleep once more with their bodies pressed together and their limbs entwined.

In the morning, Claire woke sexually sated but also confused. Jamie’s lovemaking had seemed to change. She could have sworn his hands were glowing last night but she was not sure. Claire always enjoyed passion with Jamie but now it seemed even more intense. Now that she was sure Jamie absorbed some magic from her, she wondered if he felt the difference as well. She looked at Jamie sleeping in the bed.  
“Jamie...” she whispered.  
“C’mere, my love” he said sleepily and pulled her to him.  
“We must wake soon... Master Raymond will be waiting,” she said.  
“I ken it,” he said holding her body against his.  
“Jamie... last night... when we made love, your hands... they looked like they were glowing. Does that sound strange? Perhaps it was my imagination.”  
“Nay, it was not your imagination. Your whole body was glowing... You were beautiful... I was making love to a fairy...”  
“Pfft! A fairy? I was glowing? You cannot be serious!” She said pulling away.  
“Aye, my love... a fairy... and ye were glowing...” he said huskily.  
Claire sat up in the bed. “We have to get ready to leave.” She said changing the subject. She didn’t want to entertain Jamie’s fanciful notions of her. It was too ridiculous. _’A Fairy, really?’_ she thought to herself.  
“Jamie, I need to put some fresh bandages on you... you’re healing nicely but you still have to be careful not to open any of the wounds.”  
“Aye,” Jamie replied reluctantly getting up. The magic spell of the night was broken and reality crept in with the rising sun.  
“We should make good travel time today and be at Leoch by supper. We can rest in your bed together while you heal and forget these awful past weeks. I’m looking forward to it actually.”  
“Aye, but ye should prepare yourself Claire,” Jamie replied.  
“Prepare myself? For what? Will I not be welcome at Leoch? You told me Colum punished Father Bain for his false accusations.”  
“Aye, but we thought ye perished. The judges were bribed by the English to give you up, but that did not change their records. You were found guilty, Claire. Since ye were taken by the English, they put Lizzie in your place. They put hoods over their heads, so nobody kens it was not you that burned in the pyre.”  
“Lizzie? Oh my god Jamie... so Geillis and Lizzie... they both burned... together?” Claire asked with fresh tears forming in her eyes.  
“Aye... we had a funeral for you, Claire. Everyone thinks you are dead.”


	33. Monster’s Orgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title says it all... so NSFW  
> Black Jack Jonathan Randall has some time in his hands so he decides to have an orgy in his bedroom.

Jonathan Randall, Captain of His Majesty’s Ninth Dragoons, sat in his office as he finished the paperwork for an indictment against Jamie MacKenzie. He would put a price on Jamie’s head and would soon imprison the MacKenzie at Wentworth once more. 

Jonathan was bursting with fury over Claire and Jamie’s escape. Not only had they escaped, but Jamie had resisted his magic and seduction. Even the next day, when Randall whipped Jamie mercilessly, the man had resisted enchantment and refused to break.

Sir Fletcher, the governor, did not officially stand for his officers torturing prisoners and had released Jamie MacKenzie due to lack of evidence for imprisonment and torture. Jonathan had received an official reprimand for his conduct which was nothing more than a light slap on the wrist. With this new paperwork in hand, Jonathan Randall walked swiftly through the dim prison halls towards the governor’s office. He wanted to have an audience with Sir Fletcher before he took his evening repast. Randall would bring proper charges against Jamie MacKenzie and have him at his mercy once more. Jamie was the key to finally possessing Claire.

Sir Fletcher Gordon was a short and portly man, whose striped silk waistcoat fitted him like a second skin. Slope-shouldered and paunch-bellied, he looked rather like a large ham seated in the governor’s wheel-backed chair.  
He turned over the sheaf of papers Randall placed on his desk with a slow, deliberate forefinger.  
“MacKenzie, James. Convicted of murder. Sentenced to hang. Now, where’s the Warrant of Execution?” He paused again, shuffling nearsightedly through the papers.  
“We do not have a warrant. I was hoping to obtain that from you today.” Randall replied.  
Sir Fletcher frowned, considering. Plainly he considered this request a nuisance, then finally he shook his head reluctantly.  
“No, Captain Randall. No, I’m afraid I really cannot allow that. We are rather crowded at present, and haven’t sufficient facilities to permit this.... private grievance. And the man is presently”—he consulted the pile of papers again—“not convicted in any court. I don’t see any judges stamps or signatures for the accusations. Do not think you may abuse your privileges as Captain in my prison,” he said with warning and waved Randall away in dismissal.

Randall was furious. All he needed was one signature from Sir Fletcher. He stepped in close to the man.  
“Perhaps, if you read the paperwork again, you will see that you are mistaken, Governor.” Randall said with sigh. He moved one step closer to the governor and began an influencing spell. Nobody could resist him when he made a request.

Sir Fletcher stood. Just then a guard entered the room to inform the governor that the evening meal was ready. Sir Fletcher seemed relieved as he looked at Randall.  
“Now, if there is no other matter you wish to address, I shall escort you out of my office Captain Randall.” He said in dismissal.

Randall walked through the prison halls stunned. It seemed even Sir Fletcher was immune to his enchantments. Was it possible Claire bespelled the man with protections? Impossible! She never met the governor!

Randall thought of the old man who had taken Jamie away in his cart. He had seen the man around the prison several times. His men seemed quite grateful to the him for the medicines he sold. The old man had consulted with Sir Fletcher and had seen to Jamie’s release. What was the old man’s connection to Jamie? Randall had smelled something on the old man, but it wasn’t magic. Perhaps, Randall thought, his own magic was weakening. Randall looked down at his hands. Already, his body was decomposing and he had only enchanted it merely months ago. It had not been a year yet! In the past, he could sustain a body for many years, without rot.

Randall continued to walk through the prison in anger. He needed a diversion, and then he would come up with another plan. He walked outside across the prison yard to the prison’s laundry. He needed some entertainment for the evening.  
Jonathan Randall walked into the prison laundry where several women were working diligently.

Randall cleared his throat. Some of the women stopped what they were doing to look at the Captain.  
“Ladies, I need a few of you to assist with some duties in the main building,” he said with authority.  
Several of the women nodded and bowed their heads as Randall began to walk through the laundry room. He looked at one petit blonde woman. She was young and fairly attractive despite her disheveled appearance from a hard day’s work.  
Randall touched her arm. “You... you will come with me.”  
He saw another young woman with brunette hair and pointed her out.  
“You will come as well,” he said as she nodded and walked over to him.  
An elderly woman stepped forward to volunteer and Randall shook his head.  
“You won’t do at all,” he said dismissively.  
Then he saw across the room a young portly woman with brunette hair. Her body was large and rotund, but she was young and strong. Randall pointed her out.  
“You will come with me as well,” he said and the plump woman walked over to him. Randall bowed to the rest of the women. “Please pardon my interruption,” he said as he motioned for the three women to follow him out of the laundry.

Randall escorted the women to the main building and led them through the corridors towards his private bed chambers. With most of the staff on break for supper, the hallways were mostly deserted with only the occasional guard crossing their path.  
When they reached his bed chambers, Randall ushered the women inside and closed and locked the door. The women stood staring at him in confusion as he walked across the room and took a seat in a comfortable chair. Then Randall began his enchantment of the room. 

Randall could see his enchantment was working as the women’s pupils began to dilate and they relaxed onto his large bed.  
Randall smiled as he continued weaving his magic.  
“Ladies, I want you to help one another undress now,” he said.  
Randall watched as the three women began to undress and soon were all naked.  
“It’s going to be a long evening ladies, please, warm one another up,” he directed as he sat watching the women.

The brunette took the blonde woman’s breasts in her hands and began to lick and suckle them while the larger woman moved between her legs and dove her head down to her center and began to lick and suckle her sex.  
Randall watched with enjoyment as the women took turns licking and suckling each other’s sex. He heard all three of them cry out in climax from the other women’s ministrations, only to continue once more to pleasure one another. As they moaned and stimulated each other, Randall felt his cock sufficiently stiffen and removed his own clothes. Once naked, Randall looked down at his enlarged rigid member. It was the only familiar part of this body. He enhanced this cock with and endowment spell to match the impressive size and girth he possessed when he was a human. He approached the women on his bed as he continued to weave magic around the room. It poured out of him, his breath, his mouth and even his cock.

He walked to the side of the bed, where the portly brunette lay on her back. The blonde girl’s head was between her legs and the other brunette was fondling and kissing her large breasts. Randall touched the blonde girl and moved her aside and then knelt between the woman’s meaty thighs and entered her. She cried out as Randall began to fuck her furiously, as the other two girls looked on in lust. The large woman moaned and writhed under Randall as he moved his body on top of hers while still thrusting. He kissed her and she moaned in pleasure as magic was leaking out of Randall’s mouth and his cock. The woman screamed as she climaxed and Randall felt her waves of pleasure run through his own body, as he took and absorbed her energy.

He moved off the large brunette and stood up and the other two girls both began grabbing his large cock. The blonde girl put her mouth around the wide girth of him and started sucking while the petite brunette began touching and fondling his balls.  
“Now, ladies, everyone gets a turn.” He said. He grabbed the blonde.  
“Turn around on all fours,” he demanded. She eagerly complied and he entered her from behind; thrusting hard while the girl panted and moaned. The other girls in the bed began caressing and suckling her breasts as Randall continued pumping into her from behind. It was only after the blonde reached her second climax, that Randall withdrew from her. 

Randall then laid on his back on the bed between the girls. He motioned for the final girl, the petit brunette to climb upon him. She eagerly sat upon him, impaling herself with his cock, and began to ride him as she moaned in pleasure. Randall enjoyed the sensations as the girl brought herself to climax again and again. The little brunette reminded him of Claire and he couldn’t help but feel anger in Claire’s escape from Wentworth just as he was about to take his pleasure with her. As the brunette climaxed on him again Randall felt a pulsing power within him. He pushed the girl off of him and closed his eyes. He had pleasured all the women and now it was his turn. He drew in his breath for one last enchantment.

When Jonathan opened his eyes again, it was no longer the laundry women in bed with him. It was his wife, Elizabeth Thomson, and Julia and Claire.  
“Come here,” he motioned to Elizabeth. He pushed her down on her backside and mounted her. She cried in delight as he began thrusting into her again. Randall then grabbed her throat with both hands and began to squeeze. Elizabeth’s face became red, as her oxygen was cut off, while Randall continued to thrust into her. He then released his hands and began to kiss his former bride. As she was catching her breath, she let out little mewls in pleasure as he kissed her mouth, her neck, and then her breasts. Randall then lifted his head and put his hands to her throat once more. He watched her face redden as he began squeezing the life out of her while still pleasuring her. He felt her body quiver and explode in climax as he cut off her breath. He released her neck, and Elizabeth’s face slowly returned to normal as she was able to breathe again. It was a pity, Randall thought, that Elizabeth wasn’t here so he could kill her again.

Randall stood up from the bed and looked at Julia.  
“Get on all fours now,” he commanded. She immediately complied and Randall stood behind her and began fucking her at once. He caressed her buttocks and moved them apart and saw the tiny pucker and quickly withdrew his cock and then penetrated her ass with one sure deep thrust; ripping her flesh as the girl cried out in surprise.  
“Julia...” he growled as she continued to cry out in pleasure.  
He thrust himself roughly into her ass over and over again until Randall finally noticed Claire watching and waiting. He pulled out of Julia and she moved away with a look of bliss that suggested she was unaware that her ass was bleeding. 

“Claire...” Jonathan said as he walked across the room to retrieve his belt. He was angriest at Claire, and now he would have some satisfaction.  
He moved a chair near a tall looking glass and motioned for Claire to come to him.  
The girl got out of the bed and walked over to Randall. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly agape. She was under his spell....  
Randall put Claire over his lap and grabbed his belt and twisted it. He lifted his arm high and slapped the belt against the girl’s buttocks with a nasty thwapping sound. He immediately lifted his arm and brought the belt down hard again. He continued to whip the girl over and over again. Within minutes Claire’s buttocks and upper thighs were red and swollen, but Randall continued.

After some time, Randall paused for a moment and pulled her head up so he could see her reflection in the mirror. Tears streamed down Claire’s face but she did not protest him and he felt his cock stiffen even more. Again he continued with the punishment until Claire’s buttocks were turning black and blue and her body shook and quivered on his lap. He lifted her head again and saw the tears in her face. He dropped the belt and put his hand between her legs. He began to massage her most sensitive center until she was once again shaking with pleasure.

Randall helped Claire up and motioned her to go to the bed. The other two girls continued to lick and fondle each other unaware of anything else happening in the room. Claire moved to the bed and Randall pushed her down onto her back. Her eyes still streamed with tears and Randall touched her swollen buttocks with a smile. He moved on top of Claire and pushed himself deep inside her. Randall’s cock was twitching and his apparition of Claire had excited him more than he expected it to.  
“You’re the one... Claire,” he said.  
At that moment Randall knew Claire was the one who would break his curse.  
He pushed himself deep inside Claire over and over and felt his ecstasy build as it moved through his dead form and suddenly bursted forth from his cock as thick jets of his seed. The girl moaned in pleasure as he continued to spill inside her. Randall dropped his head and bit her breast hard as his release went on and on and powerful waves of sensation ran through him. When he pulled himself out, thick drops of his black colored seed dripped on the girl’s belly. He sat up on his knees and pulled the girl up so she could suck the final drops. He closed his eyes while she suckled his cock and when the shudders subsided, Randall, now exhausted, pulled the girl to him and fell into a deep sleep. 

Sometime early the next morning, Randall awoke to screams in his room. He opened his eyes to the three hysterical laundry women. In the early morning light, with last night’s enchantment gone, the girls were crying and wandering around his room looking for their clothing.  
“Quiet, ladies, or you’ll have every guard in the prison up here within moments,” Randall said with irritation.  
This seems to frighten the women more as they quieted themselves but were still in distress.  
Randall looked at the petit brunette. She had a large bite mark bruise on her breast and she was wiping his dark seed away that ran down her legs. She had screamed when she first saw the coal black thick goo oozing from her center. Randall smiled. He had climaxed like a geyser inside of her. The brunette winced as she dressed painfully with a backside that was black and blue. The blonde girl was covering her neck that had bruises from where he strangled her, and the plump brunette was wiping dried blood from her buttocks.  
“Thank you ladies, for such a pleasant evening. Perhaps, I shall invite you to my bed again soon?” He said smiling at them.  
The women quickly finished dressing and hurried out of the room. He could hear them running down the hall away from him. Randall stretched in his bed satisfied. He hadn’t enjoyed himself that much in a long time. Randall couldn’t climax quickly or easily when he was occupying dead flesh. Enchanting the laundry women’s appearance to look like the Thomson women had sent him over the edge. 

Two weeks later, Randall noticed the whispers and the stares from some of the women who worked in the prison. He had heard about the laundry woman that died. The prison’s doctor had seen to her. At first, the doctor thought she was pregnant. She had abdominal cramping and had missed her courses. Then she died merely days later as black color blood oozed out from between her legs. Randall knew some of his seed got into her womb and sighed. Only a Thomson woman could survive his dead seed as well as break his curse. Through Claire, he would have his immortal life back as a living man, and would no longer have to occupy the dead.

His spirit would have to go back to the Isles to gather energy if he couldn’t find Claire soon. Her power increased his own. He needed another body to occupy. He needed to be someone with more power, with influence; someone with no impediments to finding Claire.


	34. Alone... at last...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure sex.... NSFW!!! Jamie and Claire finally make it home to Leoch..... and get kinky.... Jamie tries new ways to make love to Claire... 
> 
> I made this its own chapter because I didn’t want to spoil it with what’s next!

Master Raymond steered his horses and cart through the gated entrance of the enormous fortified Castle Leoch. Claire peeped out of the cart and saw the familiar thick stone walls and high, slitted windows.  
“Jamie, we’re finally at Leoch!” She whispered to a peacefully napping Jamie.  
“Thank Christ,” he replied without opening his eyes. “I’m in need of supper and my bed.”  
They had traveled the last leg of this trip quietly as Claire was lost in her thoughts reflecting on all she had learned from Master Raymond. Jamie was mostly silent too aside from and an occasional grunt of discomfort when the cart jolted him.  
As the cart and horses picked their way over the stones of the courtyard, Jamie began to put on his sark.  
“Listen, Claire... I dinna want the men to ken that I was whipped. No’ yet.” He said in a serious tone.  
“I understand,” she replied as the cart slowed and soon came to a stop.  
Jamie opened the cart and stepped out as Master Raymond walked up to them.  
“I thank ye again, Master Raymond, for the rescue and taking us home.” Jamie said.  
“No thanks is necessary, my friends. But I will bid you goodbye now, as I must find my own bed for the night.” He said kindly.  
“You’re own bed? You can stay here, and have supper with us.” Claire said as Jamie nodded in agreement.  
“I appreciate your generosity Madonna... but I will find suitable accommodations in the village.” Master Raymond said. Before Claire could protest, he took his seat in the front of the cart to travel the short distance to Cranesmuir.

Claire was about to tell Jamie they should insist Master Raymond stay at Leoch, when a loud commotion caught her attention.  
Before she could blink, Claire was surrounded by the MacKenzie boys that Jamie was training. Hamish, Daniel, and Fergus surrounded her.  
“Milady! Milady! God has restored you!” exclaimed Fergus. When he gave her a hug, Claire noticed his missing hand.  
She gave Jamie a terrible look. “How?” She asked trying to control her emotions.  
“Aye, it was after your trial,” Jamie said.  
“The guards were going to take both my hands, for trying to protect you! Milord rescued me!” Fergus explained.  
“Oh my god, Fergus! I’m so sorry,” Claire exclaimed.  
The boys were full of questions as they had all attended her funeral.  
“I saw you burn on the pyre, Milady.” Fergus said.  
“Aye, Fergus... That wasnae Claire. Remember when I asked ye about Lizzie?” Jamie reminded him.  
“Oui? So it was Lizzie that burned?” Fergus asked.  
“Aye, Lizzie and Geillis.” Jamie answered solemnly.  
In shock, Fergus sadly walked back to the keep. He had developed a crush on the young maid during the time he spent guarding Claire. Now he knew for certain he would never see Lizzie again. 

Jamie looked around at the other boys as they were all asking questions.  
“Ye will hear all about Claire’s rescue soon, lads.” He told them as he took Claire by the arm.  
“Perhaps we should go to our room through the back kitchens to avoid another ambush.  
Claire nodded and he led her quickly and quietly down a path to the gardens.  
Jamie walked into the scullery in immediately found Mrs. FitzGibbons.  
“Jamie, my dear!” Mrs. FitzGibbons cried. “You’ve returned! How good to see ye! And.... Cl... Claire? You’re alive?” She gasped with wide eyes and a confused look upon her face.  
“Aye, Claire is alive... but we are in need of supper and our beds. Can ye have the maids bring supper and a bath to my room?” Jamie asked.  
“Och, Aye! Right away... It... It’s good to see ye as well Claire,” Mrs. FitzGibbons remarked still looking at Claire in shock.  
“I’m pleased to see you, and to be back home at Leoch,” Claire said warmly.  
They left a stunned Mrs. FitzGibbons in the scullery as they walked swiftly to Jamie’s chambers.

In the safety of Jamie’s bedchamber, Claire sat in a chair and finally relaxed.  
Jamie immediately set up the task of lighting a fire to warm the room.  
“Jamie! Let me do that! You’re going to hurt your back!”   
“Nay, I’m no’ a cripple and I canna just lie in my bed. My back is healing verra well.”  
“Well, I’m going to have to change your dressings tonight,” she curtly said.  
“Fine, Claire, ye may tend to me later,” he said with annoyance. Jamie was tired and hungry as well as stiff and a little sore from the long trip. Arriving at Leoch had also been a painful reminder of how close he came to losing Claire. The grief he felt those last few days at the castle haunted him.

Soon a servant arrived at their chambers with their supper. They ate mostly in silence though Claire’s gaze lingered on the half-starved Jamie devouring his meal of sliced meat, cheese, fruit and fresh bannocks.  
When they finished their meal, servants brought in a bath and and filled it with hot water as Claire instructed them to leave the extra jugs of water by the fire. Then Claire proceeded to take care of Jamie, cleaning him and his wounds and softening the healing skin in the warm water. When she was done, she had Jamie lay naked on this belly as she tended to his back. It was a week since she stitched him, and as he was healing rapidly, the stitches needed to be removed. Claire removed his each stitch carefully, while Jamie fell asleep exhausted from the long days of travel. When Claire was done with the stitches, she lightly applied an ointment to his wounds. Claire looked at his ruined back and sighed. She remembered when she first arrived at Leoch, and how beautiful his back had been. The scars left would be brutal and ugly. There was no help for it now. Or was there?

Claire went to the fire and added the heated jugs of water to the bath. She then removed her own clothing and sank into the warm water in the tub. She wondered if there wasn’t more she could do for Jamie’s injuries. Now that she knew she had magic, perhaps, she could do more than she thought. She has worked miracles as a nurse and then a doctor during the war in her own time. She knew she had influence over blood vessels. She even caused two men to die by apoplexy she thought with guilt. She had never truly tested her healing abilities though. Was there more she could do for Jamie?

Claire got out of the tub and took a clean towel to dry herself. She walked across the room and felt eyes upon her. Jamie had awoken and was lying in bed, watching her bathe.  
“Claire... My bonny...” he said as his eyes gleamed in the candlelight.  
Claire smiled and walked over to the bed and sat down. “How does your back feel?”   
“I feel fine Claire,” he said and his eyes were now—admiring.  
Jamie was lying in his bed and sighed willing Claire to turn her emerald eyes upon him. He looked at her lips, and remembered the lushness of them, remembered the hot feel of them against his own.  
“I thought you would be asleep for the rest of the night” Claire said.  
“I couldna sleep with ye walking around the room naked... I cannae look at ye, Claire, nor have ye near me, and not want ye.” Jamie replied.  
“Well then, perhaps we can play my favorite game, right here... to put you to sleep” Claire suggested playfully.  
Jamie tucked his arm under his head. “You’ve a favorite game?”   
“Yes. It’s called Loving Jamie.” She bent down, curtaining his face with her hair as she brushed her lips over his own. She kissed his chin and the angular line of his jaw, and then worked her way over to his ear.  
“Do you want to know the rules?” she asked.  
He ran his hand down the length of her spine.  
“Aye.” He replied.  
“There aren’t any,” she whispered, and nipped his earlobe.  
Jamie immediately sat halfway up, and pushed her back to the bed so her head lay opposite of him. Laying on his side, he grabbed both her legs so they were straddling his shoulders. Claire felt his fingers stroke her folds apart, and then the heat of his breath just before he began licking her. Her breasts throbbed in response to the intimate kiss, and she turned fully to onto her side with her head just inches away from his hard cock.  
Claire grabbed his cock with her hand as she slid her mouth down and sucked on him. The thrilling, sexy feel of Jamie lapping at her fueled Claire’s desire to give him the same pleasure, and she began working her lips down on his shaft with gentle, tugging strokes of her mouth. His shaft jerked as she increased the pull and lashed him with her tongue, and then she worked the base of him with her fist, squeezing and releasing with the rhythm of her sucking.  
Claire cradled his balls in her hand, and caressed the softly furred flesh with her fingertips. At the same time she went down on him as far as she could manage, sealing her lips around him as she held his cock in her mouth and sucked hard. Jamie made a deep sound that vibrated through her being, and then worked two fingers into her tight, wet opening as he tugged on her clit, sucking it.  
_‘This man has a magic tongue’_ she thought writhing against him.  
Under her fingers she felt the surge of him and felt the rigid swelling of his shaft that preceded him climaxing. She pressed him deeper into her mouth as she stroked his shaft with her fist, sucking at him until the first jet surged over her tongue. The taste of him pushed her from aching, tight need into a storm of sweet, sultry ecstasy. They both suddenly shuddered with the force of their climaxes, and when it was over Jamie righted her and held her against his side.  
“I do like that game,” he told her holding her close. He and ran his hand from her knee to the inside of her thigh, where he stroked her slick folds with his fingertips.  
“Do ye want me inside of you still?” he whispered.  
“I want that every moment we are together,” she whispered back.  
Claire had never felt him more focused on her, as if he knew her every thought and that no one and nothing else in the world existed for him.  
“I have been waiting weeks for a time I can have you at my leisure.” he said and pressed her knees up as he moved between them, his chest heaving as he rooted against her.  
Jamie reached down and took both her wrists in one hand. He pulled them up, over Claire’s head, and held her there, her body lay helpless under him.  
“My willing captive... give me your mouth, Mo nighean dubh,” he said softly. His head blotted out the candlelight, and Claire saw nothing but a dim glow and the darkness of his flesh as his mouth touched hers. Gently, brushing, then pressing, warm, and Claire opened to him with a little gasp, his tongue seeking her own.  
Claire bit his lip as she felt him hardening against her, and he drew back a little, startled.  
“Jamie,” she said against his lips, as she pushed her hips up against his own.  
His eyes remained locked with hers while he worked his stiff cock into her.  
Claire moaned as he filled her so completely she could feel every inch of him, hot and hard inside her, and that alone was going to make her climax again.  
“Don’t stop!” Claire cried out.  
Jamie cut her off by kissing her, his mouth almost desperate as he pushed in his tongue to stroke hers. His body shuddered over hers, and then he drew out of her, and plowed back inside, over and over, but he never stopped kissing her. He swallowed her gasps and cries and the shaking moan she uttered as she climaxed again. He thrusted through her wild delight and kept shafting her, their skins growing slippery with sweat.

He reared up on both hands, back arched and head thrown back, eyes closed and breathing hard. Then very slowly, he bent his head forward and his release began, deep inside Claire, without moving, shivering through his body so that his arms trembled in the dim light, and he dropped his head with a sound like a sob, his hair hiding his face as he spilled himself, each jerk and pulse of his flesh between Claire’s legs rousing an echo of her own. When it was over, he held himself over her, still for a long moment. Then, very gently, he lowered himself, pressed his head against Claire’s, and lay as if dead.

In the middle of the night, Claire stirred from a deep, contented sleep, as the baby was now pressing on her bladder. As quietly as she could, she got out of bed and tip toed to the privy closet to relieve herself. She rejoined Jamie in the bed holding a small bottle of herbal oil. She opened the bottle and let several large drops fall to her belly before she began to massage it into her stretching skin. As Claire’s hands moved over her belly, she suddenly felt Jamie’s hands upon her.  
“Nay, my love, this is my job... I call it loving Claire” he said quietly pushing her hands aside.  
Claire smiled and closed her eyes as Jamie slowly massaged the oil into her skin.  
“Where else, my love?” He asked when her belly was done.  
“My breasts,” she answered. Claire thought she heard a small groan from Jamie as he dripped beads of oil on her swollen breasts. Then Claire moaned as Jamie worked the oil into her skin. He massaged sensitive breasts carefully, his hands sliding across her nipples, making them tight.  
Jamie sat up and then and moved to the foot of the bed. He dripped oil carefully onto Claire’s feet and began to massage her swollen feet and ankles.  
“How did you know?” Claire said closing her eyes in bliss. Her feet had been sore for days. She lay contented as the heat of his hands warmed up her body and as his hands made their way up her legs, she felt another kind of heat stirring. Before Claire could grab him, Jamie moved Claire to lie on her side and sat behind her. He moved her hair aside and then she felt his big hands on her shoulders, squeezing and kneading all the tightness out of her muscles. Claire thought that if his hands weren’t glowing, they should be as she melted under his touch.

Jamie continued to massage her, moving down her backside.  
“Your skin is like ivory, my love,” he whispered. “I—canna even say what I feel when I touch you,” he continued as his hands moved around her lower back.  
Jamie’s hands then moved across her buttocks as he massaged more oil into her skin. He laid down close behind Claire and brought his lips to her ear.  
“I remember that first ride through the dark together”—he paused giving her derriere a squeeze—“ with this lovely arse wedged between my thighs”—  
Claire giggled as he pinched her lightly.  
“I wanted you the first moment I saw you.” He whispered, “More than I ever wanted anything in my life,” he added.  
“Me too,” she confessed, with a breathless laugh as he moved his hands between her legs to feel her wet center.  
Jamie brought his hand up to her tight rosebud and began to massage it with his lubricated fingers. He gently pressed a finger in as he kissed her neck.  
Claire gasped in surprise as Jamie worked another finger inside her.  
“Jamie... that’s my...”  
“Aye, you have the loveliest arse Claire,” he said as he pulled his fingers away.  
Jamie immediately grabbed the bottle of oil and dripped copious amounts onto his cock. Claire reached for him but he held her at on her side.  
“One moment, my love,” he said and then brought his chest flush with her back. He moved her hips back to him and brought his swollen cock to her tiny pucker.  
“Jamie!” Claire hissed, “Are you trying to fuck my ass?”  
“Fuck?” He asked.  
“Yes, it’s when...” she said.  
“I ken what it is Claire. I didna know you had a tongue like an adder’s,” he said pushing slowly against her tight ring. “Aye, I’m going to fuck your ass. I want it.” he whispered.  
“I’ve never done that!” she said.  
“You dinna want to try?” he asked gently.  
Claire sighed. “No... I... I want to...” she replied closing her eyes and putting herself into Jamie’s care. She could never say no to Jamie, she wanted him too much... she wanted him to take her, to possess her.  
“Relax, I willna hurt you, my love,” he said as he kissed her neck. “I know that,” she whispered and submitting herself to him entirely.

For a moment, Claire felt an unfamiliar stretching and burning, then she felt Jamie inside her. She tightened around him reflexively, and felt all the rich nerves flare into life.  
“Breathe,” Jamie said as he gave her another gentle thrust, and more of his shaft sank into her. After a few more gentle thrusts, Claire heard Jamie moan as he moved past the resistance and thrust himself to his root deep inside her tightly-stretched opening.  
“A Dhia” he moaned as he pulled her body closer to his. Jamie moved a hand around her hip to the apex of her thighs; burrowing between her folds to stroke steadily back and forth over her clit.  
Jamie’s groan of satisfaction was pleasing to Claire’s ears, the pulse of his shaft inside her was adding to her own arousal as she felt the liquid pooling between her legs. She no longer felt any stretching or discomfort; only intense pleasure with Jamie fully inside her.  
“You’re so wet, Claire!” Jamie said as he rubbed her center and then he pushed two fingers inside her while he continued to grind the palm of his hand against her sensitive nub. He rocked himself gently against her backside, deep inside her arse, while gliding his hand back and forth in the slick vee of her thighs.  
Claire’s soft panting became more frantic, and her body began to quiver as she twisted against him, rubbing herself wantonly, pushing herself to the peak.  
“That’s it, lass, take your pleasure.” he said victoriously.  
Claire was the most sensuous woman he’d ever met in his life, every inch of her body sensitive to his caresses, and although he’d bedded scores of women in his life, none had affected him like Claire. His stomach was shaky from the intensity of his desire, and his cock was so hard it was painful.

Claire cried out loudly as Jamie felt the spasms of her peak move through her body. He felt her tight ring pulse and throb around his cock and a moment later his husky voice mingled with her sweet cries as they peaked in perfect rhythm.  
Jamie purred to her as he came, using Gaelic words he knew she wouldn’t understand. He said heartfelt things he could never acknowledge otherwise. He called her a goddess and his magical faerie. Christ, he talked like a fool.

Claire shuddered against him, listening to his mutterings, and somehow she knew that every word he uttered was praise. When he finally stilled against her, Jamie stroked her back and shoulders, marveling, elated and sated beyond compare.  
“You are beautiful, my love,” he whispered, brushing his lips back and forth over ear tenderly.  
“You know I’ve never done that before. I never had much... intimacy with my former husband,” she whispered.  
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, with such concern that it touched her heart.  
“Maybe for a second at first, but everything you do feels good...” she confessed.  
“It aroused me immensely,” he growled. “And it made me hard as stone.”  
“You are always hard, Jamie,” she teased.  
“I know,” he said smugly. “Your glance drifts there often.”  
“Arrogance!” She said as she attempted to shrug him off her.  
Jamie grabbed her tight and pulled her close. “I love you, Mo nighean dubh”  
“I love you too,” she whispered.  
  
As Jamie was drifting to sleep, there was no question in his mind. Claire was the one for him. He wanted to die when he thought he lost her. Claire was the woman he’d wanted all his life—and so what if she had to come from 200 hundred years in the future. Nay, he thought, he’d keep her safe with him always, tucked and secure in his bed, in his arms, warm and slippery from his loving. And loving. And more loving. She did some witchy thing to his blood.

By early morning, the gossip that Jamie and Claire has returned was all over the castle...

Jamie and Claire awoke to an unpleasant pounding on the door.


	35. Back from the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumor travels fast through Leoch that Jamie is back... with Claire. Colum demands an audience from them to answer for their whereabouts and interactions with the English..... Claire runs into Laoghaire in the castle... Leoch prepares a banquet for a visit from the Duke of Sandringham...

“I willna get out of bed,” Jamie said holding Claire close as someone banged on his door.  
She didn’t want to get out of bed either, and preferred to bask in the glow of their intimacy. She reached up and touched the bristle of auburn stubble on cheek and chin. Then she let her hand trail down his neck and across his chest.  
The pounding at the door continued. They could hear Dougal shouting in the halls.  
“I suppose he’s no’ going to leave us be,” Jamie said getting up reluctantly and putting on his sark.  
“Let me help you with that,” Claire said jumping up worrying about the wounds on his back.  
“Nay, you stay abed. You need rest for the bairn.”  
Claire laid back down reluctantly and covered herself in the bedclothes.  
As soon as Jamie unlocked his door, Dougal came bursting into the room with a look of anger on his face.  
“What the devil took ye so long to answer, man! Ye’ve been gone without word for more than a sennight, and now there’s rumors that ye came back with the _Sassenach!_ What the hell were ye doing?” Dougal demanded.  
“Sleeping,” Jamie replied, “Didna catch a wink last night.”  
Dougal looked over at the bed and saw Claire hiding beneath several quilts.  
“Weel, I’ll be damned! She’s no’ deid, then?” Dougal said with a smile returning to his face. He walked over towards the bed.  
“Good morrow Milady, it’s bonny to see ye well and no’ burnt to—“  
“Aye!” Jamie interrupted and grabbed Dougal’s arm and led him toward the door. “We’ve traveled hard this past week and in need of our rest.” Jamie said attempting to push Dougal out of the room.  
“Nay, you’ll come wi’ me to Colum’s office. Now. He wants a private word with ye... and bring the _Sassenach_...” Dougal demanded as he looked back at Claire.  
Jamie ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Give us some time to make ourselves presentable.”  
Dougal smiled and attempted to sit in chair.  
“Christ! Show some respect for my wife and wait in the hall!” Jamie shouted.  
“Be quick about it then... Colum’s patience has been sorely tested... So has mine..” Dougal warned as he left the room.

Jamie and Claire walked into Colum’s private office. While the rest of the castle was gritty and functionally furnished without sentimentality, his office was luxurious with its fine furniture, carefully hung paintings and tapestries and warmly lit by fire. Colum, himself, was before a large window that let whatever daylight there was flood the room. Jamie stepped nervously forward. Few people were ever allowed into this private sanctuary, and the Laird usually received people in his library.

“Dougal, leave us,” Colum said without turning around. When Dougal left and the door was shut, Colum stood silent for some moments which intimidated Claire and Jamie.  
“Jamie, I’ve heard a rumor... that ye took a trip alone to Wentworth Prison. But I thought to myself, Nay! My nephew wouldna let a damned priest play him for a _fool!_ ” Colum said coldly.  
“Aye! As can see, the priest was no’ lying,” Jamie replied.  
Colum turned around and was immediately met with Claire’s green eyes. “I see,” Colum agreed cooly. “Your instincts were correct after all... It doesna mean ye didna act like an impetuous loon!”  
Colum looked back at Claire. He was fully prepared to greet his nephew with insults, but one look at Claire changed his mood. “I welcome ye again, Mistress Claire,” he said, “it’s verra fine to see tragedy didnae befell ye... I ken you were no’ to blame.” He motioned for Claire to sit down. “Jamie, send the servant in the hall for some refreshment.”  
Claire took a seat nervously as Colum’s eyes never once left her. “So it’s true that the villagers burned Mistress Duncan and my maid Lizzie?” Claire asked him.  
“Och, Aye... we had a funeral for them at the very church you and Jamie were to be married. We kent...” Colum trailed off.  
“You thought it was me,” Claire answered.  
“Aye, and now Claire and I must wed proper, in a kirk, before a priest.” Jamie interrupted.  
“That’s a fine sentiment Jamie, but we must settle up this matter first. Claire has had two indictments against her during a short few months at Leoch... I took care of the priest... but the English Solider?” Colum looked at Claire with his brow raised.  
“She did no’ have an indictment Uncle.. I-“ Jamie began.  
“Haud yer wheest, _lad!_ Claire, speak yer piece.” Colum said with a look of reproach.  
Claire sighed. _’Here goes nothing,’_ she thought. “Yes, I was taken from the trial by English soldiers. In particular, by their Captain Randall. He heard about the trial and sent his men for me.” she said truthfully.  
Colum’s face changed. There was an increased intensity in the line of the mouth, and a deepening of the creases on his forehead. “Ah?” he said. “Tell me more. What interest does Captain Randall have with ye?”  
“The _same_ interest I have in her, Uncle. He wants to marry her!” Jamie said icily.  
“Och! Is that so? Did ye have relations with this Randall?” Colum said looking to Claire again.  
“No!” Claire said quickly. “Never! I... I have never seen him before... except once... when I was attacked. He attacked me... and kissed me. I got away because Murdoch saved me. After that, I was brought here, to Leoch, as a prisoner.”  
Colum looked at Jamie who nodded in agreement.  
Just then a servant entered and brought in a tray of refreshments; mugs of ale and fresh oatcakes spread with honey.  
“And what of the indictiment?” Colum asked.  
“There wasn’t any indictment against me... Captain Randall had... he had falsified a marriage contract between us,” Claire said with a sigh. She grabbed an oatcake and nibbled on it to prevent nausea.  
Colum leaned back, and eyed them speculatively, “So how exactly did ye get out of Wentworth? Did Jamie storm the prison? Should I be expecting Sir Fletcher at my gates with his English cavalry?”  
“Well... Jamie...” Claire began.  
“Nay! Claire’s relative got her out of prison. The man’s been looking for her throughout the Highlands for months,” Jamie interrupted.  
“You’ve kin in Scotland?” Colum asked.  
“Nay, he’s from France, and presently staying in the village.” Jamie replied.  
“And he just knocked on the Sir Fletcher’s door and he released Claire?” Colum asked.  
“Aye!” Jamie said irritably. “He knocked on Sir Fletcher’s door, gave him a bag of coin, explained the forgery, and he let Claire go.”  
“That is an fascinating tale.... a bag of coin ye say?” Colum asked as he seemed to be hiding a smile.  
“Gold! Claire’s family is wealthy,” Jamie snapped.  
“Actually, I’m an heiress,” Claire informed them.  
Jamie froze for a second. “So ye see Uncle, ye dinna need fash yourself over the English.”  
“Apparently so...” Colum nodded then took a sip of his ale. “Although, a beautiful heiress... I suspect Claire would fetch a good amount of ransom... No doubt of my brother’s intentions now... bringing Claire to Leoch...”  
Claire looked at Jamie and frowned.  
“Nay, I wouldna let that happen. We are handfast, Claire, and ye will be my wife proper if no’ today, then tomorrow,” Jamie said defensively.  
Claire grabbed Jamie’s gloved hand and squeezed.

Jamie looked back at Colum who was smiling now and breathed a sigh of relief.  
“Well, this has been a morning of surprises. But you’ll have to hold off on your wedding for another day... perhaps even another month. The Duke of Sandringham is arriving soon for a long visit and we are hosting a welcoming banquet for him this eve. I require your presence to welcome the Duke, and of course to welcome Claire back to Leoch... we also have to plan a hunt for the Duke... and Jamie, ye will be there,” he said.  
“Aye,” Jamie sighed reluctantly.  
“Send word to Claire’s kin to attend the banquet as well. I’ve a mind to meet the man. And Claire... I have a welcoming gift for ye... I’m sending you a ladies maid,” Colum said.  
“Nay, I will get Claire her own maid.” Jamie replied.  
“Nonsense! Her name is Leticia, she’s been at Leoch a verra long time,” Colum said with a smile.

Jamie and Claire walked through the dark hallways of Leoch to prepare for the evening’s festivities.  
“Sorry I forgot to tell you about my inheritance,” Claire said looking at Jamie.  
“So ye did,” Jamie said coldly.  
“Jamie, there was a lot going on!” she said irritated.  
“Aye, Claire... I’m worrit now about no’ just Randall, but another clansman kidnapping you for ransom. Dinna mention your inheritance to anyone.”  
“I won’t... but, what about Colum?” Claire asked.  
“Colum collects information, he doesna give it out... he only gives out orders. Dinna fash... “  
“And the ladies maid? I thought you didn’t trust the maids?”  
“Aye, well... Leticia is different. Colum must be fond of ye. Leticia has served no one in this castle except Colum for many years. She’s a verra kind woman.”  
“But, do you think he means to spy on me?” She asked.  
“Perhaps, I dinna think that is his intention... but it is prudent to use discretion in front of the servants.”

Jamie brought her to their bedchambers. “You need to get some rest. I must find you another guard and send word to Master Raymond... Colum willna believe our story if he doesnae attend the banquet.”  
“Jamie, you lied about being in prison. What if someone sees your back? The flogging will leave scars?” Claire asked.  
“Dinna fash! Nobody will ken about my back. I must go now. I’ll return soon,” he said giving her a quick kiss.  
After Jamie left, Claire felt her stomach rumble. One oatcake was not nearly enough food. If she didn’t eat soon, she would be sick.

Claire walked to the busy scullery quickly, hoping to see Mrs. FitzGibbons and grab some food before Jamie returned. He would be angry if he caught her walking the castle hallways alone. As Claire walked through the large kitchens, numerous servants where busy all around preparing for the evening feast. Claire tried to stay out of the way as she looked for Mrs. FitzGibbons. That’s when she noticed the loud banging noise.  
“What the hell is all that racket?” She thought and then froze as she found the source of ruckus.  
Laoghaire was walking around the kitchen, looking more plump than usual, banging pots, pans and dropping dishes while Mrs. FitzGibbons attempted to assuage the girl’s anger.  
Laoghaire saw Claire and picked up two pans and started banging them together. Her red brimmed eyes glared at Claire wildly as she banged the pots.  
“Good grief, what is happening?” Claire asked Mrs. FitzGibbons.  
“Och, the lass is wee bit nervous... she’s to be marrit to the blacksmith in town... wedding jitters, ye ken?” Mrs. FitzGibbons said sweetly.  
Laoghaire stopped banging the pots and looked at Mrs. FitzGibbons with condemnation.  
Claire thought of the pock faced, overweight blacksmith in town. He was always filthy and lacked any sort of personal hygiene.  
“Congratulations Laoghaire, I hope you’ll be very happy,” Claire said with perfunctory kindness.  
Laoghaire turned and looked at Claire viciously. She then raised both pans over her head and slammed them on the floor before stomping out of the scullery.

“Good heavens Mrs. FitzGibbons! The blacksmith is going to be a very unhappy man,” Claire said quietly as she walked over to the woman.  
“I ken it, but there’s naught to be done. The lass must get marrit now, and he desires a wife.” Mrs. FitzGibbons said.  
“Why does she have to get married now? You don’t think it’s cruelty to force a marriage?” Claire asked.  
Mrs. FitzGibbons put her hand on her hips and looked at Claire. “Nay, it’s no’ cruelty. She canna ha’ the husband she wants and no other man will ha’ her in present condition.” She stated matter of factly.  
“Her condition? Oh, she’s pregnant!” Claire said with surprise. “Do you know who the father is?”  
“Nay,” Mrs. FitzGibbons said with a sigh. “The man I suspect doesna want her at Leoch or the bairn.”  
Claire felt her heart drop. “Who is it?”  
“I canna tell ye lass... but it’s no’ Jamie... Now, what can I do for ye?”  
“Food?” Claire simply asked.  
“Aye, I have some extras already prepared,” she said patting her shoulder.  
Claire stepped around some broken dishes and pots on the ground from Laoghaire’s tantrum.  
“Be careful lass! Dinna cut yourself!” Mrs. FitzGibbons called out.  
“Why was she banging the pots? I can understand breaking dishes? But banging pots and pans?” Claire asked.  
“The lass cannae speak anymore.” Mrs. FitzGibbons replied.  
“Can’t speak? Did she take a vow of silence?” Claire asked in bewilderment.  
Mrs. FitzGibbons gave Claire a terrible smile and ignored the question as prepared a plate.

After her meal, Claire napped peacefully on Jamie’s big bed for a couple hours until Jamie returned. She awoke to his hand massaging her belly. Claire stretched.  
“Are ye rested, my love?” he asked her still massaging her belly lightly.  
“Yes, very well rested.”  
“Good. The bairn needs it.” He said and nuzzled her neck.  
“I found out today that someone else is pregnant...” Claire said slowly.  
“Mmphh,” Jamie mumbled dismisively as he began kissing her neck.  
“She was a former lover of yours... Laoghaire?” Claire said and Jamie sighed and sat up.  
“Do ye mean to imply, _Claire,_ that she carries my bairn?” He asked.  
“Well, it’s a possibility...” she said slowly.  
“Nay! There’s no possibility!” he snapped back.  
“How do you know? Rupert is possibly the father. But couldn’t it be yours as well?”  
“Nay, Claire! I wouldna lie to ye...”  
“I believe you Jamie, I just thought it might be possible?”  
“It’s no’ possible Claire. I willna have a bastard. Bastards are usually a part of life, and most men dinna care. You ken I’ve no’ been a monk, but I dinna plant my seed in anyone except you.”  
“Oh... so where did you put your ‘seed’ then?” Claire asked amused.  
“Usually I spill on the bedclothes.... sometimes I’ve spilled in a mouth... sometimes their...” Jamie moved his hand around her ass to find her little...  
“Fine, no more questions! I understand... but I’m a doctor Jamie... it’s still a possibility” Claire said pushing his hand away from her bottom.  
“Nay! If ye must know, I ken the lass had her courses since our time together...”  
“Alright then, Jamie. I just wanted to be certain. I must admit I am relieved to know she will leave Leoch soon. Geillis suspected Laoghaire played a part in our arrest and detainment in thieves hole. But she also thought it was Colum’s wish as well.” Claire said sadly.  
Jamie thought of Laoghaire losing her tongue in the dungeon. “Ye can be certain that those responsible for your arrest and trial were severely punished,” Jamie said. He then spread her legs and moved between them as he pushed her chemise over her hips.  
“Ye can also be certain that touching your arse makes me hard as stone” he said.  
“Will I still make you ‘hard as stone’ when I’m huge and heavy with your child?” She asked touching her belly.  
“Always, my love” he said while kissing her.  
“What will you do when my belly is too round to do this?” She teased.  
“I will find a way to pleasure ye, Claire. You ken there are lots of ways,” he said huskily.  
Claire blushed thinking about the previous night and Jamie chuckled at her modesty as he got up to undress.  
“Jamie, what is the secret with your hands when you touch me now? Ever since you acquired the site... the way you touch me...”  
“I cannae really explain it. I feel like I’m being surrounded by a whirling cloud when I touch ye. And it caresses me all over like falling snow. And through it, is the heartbeat of your presence. I get so aroused I cannae help myself.” he explained softly as he finished undressing.  
Claire eyed the stiff length jutting out from soft auburn hair and was immediately aroused.  
“Do ye like what ye see, Claire?” Jamie teased noticing her lustful gaze.  
She sat up and pulled off her chemise then grabbed Jamie’s hands drawing him closer to her. She then softly stroked his hard cock.  
“You have me at a disadvantage.” he said smiling and she laughed and put his hands on her breasts.  
“In fact, you have me at your mercy,” he said huskily.  
“Is that so? And what if you don’t touch me? How do you feel without using the magic you acquired?” she asked removing his hands from her body.  
Jamie gazed into her eyes. They were like two emeralds glittering beneath dark lashes. He stared at her for so long without speaking that Claire became concerned that she unknowingly used magic on him.  
As if reading her mind, Jamie whispered, “I love you, Mo nighean dubh”  
Claire smiled. “Do I still have you at my mercy?”  
“Aye, always,” he replied looking at her full lips.  
“Then you cannot use your hands,” she replied mischievously. “I will tell you what to do.” Claire thought she heard a low growl from Jamie but he played along and kept his hands at his sides.  
Claire licked her lips then wet a single finger with her mouth. She placed her finger to her throat and let it drift lower, down into the hollow between her breasts. Jamie muttered something Gaelic that she assumed to be the best kind of blasphemy. With his eyes never leaving her, she circled each of her nipples, making them hard.  
“I know you like to look,” she said seductively moving her hands slowly lower.  
He gave a low groan. With one hand, he gripped the bedpost. “Aye.” he nodded. His eyes, heavy with desire. “Go on.”  
Claire smiled at the look on Jamie’s face. She spread her legs for him and began touching herself the way she knew it would please her most if she were alone. But she wasn’t alone. Jamie stood watching her, and that meant every sensation was heightened. It was only moments later that the pleasure broke over her. She closed her eyes letting the waves of bliss flow through her. She was dimly aware of Jamie’s low groans and when she opened her eyes, she found Jamie still staring at her; panting with his cock painfully hard and dripping.  
“Your turn,” she said wickedly and instructed Jamie to sit on the bed. “I’m going to take care of you,” she whispered in his left ear.  
The sensual promise sent chills racing down his spine. “You can do what ye please with me,” Jamie replied huskily.  
She leaned him back slightly, but not enough to hurt his wounded back. Jamie obeyed silently while keeping his hands off Claire.  
As if under a spell, Jamie watched as Claire straddled him in reverse. He watched her arse as she lowered herself onto him, bringing him into her wet blissful heat. As she slowly rode him, he could keep silent no more. Words started to tumble from his lips. Tender words, crude words. All in Gaelic, thankfully. She would have doubted him when he said no other woman made him this hard. She rode him slowly caressing him with her wet softness while teasing him with a view of her arse. The little minx. Then she rode him harder. _Yes. Holy God, yes._ He made fists in the bed linens. Claire leaned forward giving him a better view and softly cupped his balls in her hands. He cursed. His hips arched off the bed. As she massaged his balls, her fingers pressed lower and he was lost in a spiraling ecstasy. She continued to grind on him until she was suddenly convulsing around him and shaking with pleasure. Her climax commanded his. With a guttural cry, he surrendered to it, losing himself in powerful sensations that flowed throughout his body.

In the aftermath, Jamie wanted to pull her down to him. Stay inside her and let her fall asleep on top of him. But Claire remembered his injuries and her doctor duties now, and she wasn’t having any of that. Claire moved aside, and lay down next to him.  
Claire put her hand to Jamie’s chest. “Your heart is still pounding,” she said.  
“I thought my heart was going to burst. I dinna ken what ye did, but ye have magic in your hands as well.” he replied with a laugh.  
Claire smiled. “Perhaps I do...” 

Jamie slept peacefully on his stomach after their tumble in the sheets while Claire inspected the damage on his back again. She placed her hand upon him and used her diagnostic sense to take measure of how he was healing. Thanks to Master Raymond’s antibiotics there was no inflammation of Jamie’s internal organs or infection but he was still suffering from the pulpy softening of muscles. His skin was healing but had been badly lacerated. He had suffered extreme blood loss which led to shock and nearly died. She wished she could fully heal him. While attempting to escape Wentworth Prison, Jamie had purposely diverted the prison guards and got himself captured so _she_ could escape. As punishment, he was flogged in the prison yard and received over 100 lashes by Captain Randall.

Claire closed her eyes and remembered her days working in a hospital. She imagined Jamie with her in the future. Jamie was brought in as a patient and under her direct care. With the proper medical technology, she would fully heal his wounds and restore the flesh on his back. They would operate and suture all the damaged muscle to regenerate them. She would take him to the plastic and reconstructive surgery department where they perform skin graft procedures for the patients. Jamie would undergo multiple treatments where they would remove any dead skin and be able to replace it with healthy new skin. Claire was just about to assist the skin graft procedure when she heard a knock at the door that roused her out of her magical daydream.

Claire covered Jamie and opened the door to their chambers to find an attractive older woman.  
“May I help you?” She asked the woman.  
The woman smiled at her. “Aye, I’m Leticia. Colum sent me... I’m here to assist ye in dressing for the banquet.”  
Claire looked at the woman. Jamie was right, she was kind. Claire could sense it, and she opened the door to admit the woman.  
“Of course, I forgot. Jamie is resting, but you can still dress me, if you don’t mind?”  
“Not at all, Mistress.  
“I haven’t picked out a dress yet” Claire walked over to her trunk of clothes and opened it.  
“That’s odd...” Claire said as she looked through her trunk. Her best dresses were missing. She picked out a simple blue silk, which was the nicest one left, and set it aside. “Some of my dresses seem to be missing. This will have to do.”  
“It’s bonny and ye will look beautiful in it,” Leticia said. “Let’s clean ye up, dear.”  
Leticia assisted in giving Claire a light sponge bath and putting her into a clean shift.  
“I would like to dress your hair now,” Leticia said.  
Claire sat at the vanity and looked at her hair. It was a mess! Had she really seen Colum this morning looking like this?  
“I appreciate your assistance... my last maid...” Claire began.  
“I ken what befell on your last maid. I’m sorry Mistress,” Leticia said.  
“Yes... it... still makes me sad,” Claire said numbly.  
“Ye have a wedding to look forward to... Colum tells me ye are to wed verra soon,” Leticia said as she worked through the knots in Claire’s hair with a comb.  
Just how well does Leticia know Colum? Claire wondered.  
“Yes, and Jamie tells me ye have worked for Colum for a long time. You must know each other very well?” Claire asked.  
Leticia almost blushed. “Aye, it’s true.”  
Claire looked at the woman and knew at that moment she was in love with her Laird. It was rather sweet. 

Leticia began to style Claire’s hair and she had never needed to direct her; Leticia had an unerring instinct for what was in good taste. She combed the hair back off her forehead, slipping two dark tortoiseshell combs into place, and caught it up behind with a double knot of blue silk ribbons, twisting the ends so that they fell in ringlets over Claire’s shoulder.  
“Thank you, Leticia. That looks very well.”  
“There’s nothing special in it. It’d take a great fool to make you look other than the beauty ye are. Stand up now, Mistress, and I’ll lace ye into your dress.” Leticia replied.

When Claire was finished dressing, and Leticia left their chambers, Claire tried to wake Jamie. He slept as if he was dead to the world. It was getting late, the banquet would start soon.  
“Jamie... it’s time to wake up,” she said gently. But Jamie never moved. In fact, he lay so still Claire put her hand on him just to reassure herself that he was in fact, alive. Poor Jamie, she thought. He’s so worn out he’ll likely sleep through the night. She wondered if she could make their excuses for skipping the banquet. 

Suddenly there was another knock at the door. Claire opened it to find Fergus smiling at her.  
“Milady! Monsieur Raymond has arrived and awaits you the main hall.”  
“Oh, that’s right! Will you give me a moment and then escort me to meet him?”  
“Oui, Milady.”

Claire had forgotten about Master Raymond. Well, perhaps with him escorting her to the banquet, Colum wouldn’t mind so much if Jamie didn’t attend. Claire sat by Jamie on the bed and brushed her hand through his hair. He needed some rest.  
“Sleep well, Jamie... I will return soon,” she whispered. “I love you.”  
Claire got up and inspected her appearance one more time in front of the mirror. ‘Not bad’ she thought. Her blue silk dress flowed elegantly while hiding her waistline and Leticia had done wonders with her unruly hair.  
Claire then went with Fergus to find Master Raymond and left Jamie in his bed to rest.  
_’This will be an interesting evening’,_ she thought. _’Two witches at a banquet with 18th century highlanders’_ Claire had no doubt that Master Raymond would work his charms on Colum. She would be safe with him. She knew this, and yet couldn’t understand why she felt so nervous?


	36. Banquet to Hel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is book one finale! Although I’m not done, next chapters are along the “dragonfly and amber” timeline
> 
> This chapter... Laoghaire poisons Castle Leoch....  
> When Jamie is found dead with his wounded back exposed, Claire gets the blame and Colum orders her death.

The hubbub occasioned by Jamie and Claire’s sudden arrival back to Leoch was overshadowed almost at once by an event of greater importance. A visit from the Duke of Sandringham; an English noble that had dealings with Colum. He was a politically powerful man that Colum considered quite useful in keeping an alliance with. An elaborate banquet was prepared that night in honor of the Duke and Claire was quite curious about meeting the man herself.

Fergus walked Claire through the halls of Leoch to meet Master Raymond. Colum had requested his presence at the banquet and Master Raymond accepted the invitation for Claire’s sake only.  
“Madonna!” Master Raymond exclaimed with a bow. “I have never seen you look more beautiful or elegant!”  
Claire smiled. “You look quite dapper yourself, Monsieur.” Master Raymond always had a bit of elegance to him, even when they were camping in the woods, she thought. He was dashing in his velvets with his silver hair pulled back and tied. Claire held out her arm. “Shall we proceed to the banquet?” she asked.  
Master Raymond took her arm and smiled.  
“Oui, Madonna,” he replied taking her arm.  
“Oh Fergus...” Claire said before he left them. “Jamie is not well... will you go to the kitchens and ask Mrs. FitzGibbons to have supper sent to his bedchambers. He is too worn out to join us this evening.”  
“At once, Milady!” Fergus replied before heading for the kitchens.

As Claire walked to the Great Hall with Master Raymond, she quietly explained her earlier conversation with Colum. “He believes you simply bribed Sir Fletcher to release me from Wentworth Prison. He was worried about conflicts with the English. I told him you were my French family, and you came looking for me in Scotland when I did not arrive in France. I had no other explanation for my presence. Jamie did not tell him that he was captured as well.” She whispered quietly.  
“Have no fear Madonna, I will not spoil the evening with details of our misadventures.”  
“But Colum is a sly one. He has ways to trick people into revealing too much!” Claire warned him.  
“Ah... but that is why I brought a most pleasant diversion.” He said patting on a bag that he carried. Inside were 3 bottles of very expensive wines from France.  
Claire laughed. “You do think of everything! Colum does love a good wine!” She would be safe with Master Raymond tonight.

In the Great Hall, Claire and Master Raymond stood at the head of the table with the MacKenzie brothers, Colum, Dougal and Rupert as a piper played during a precession to welcome the Duke to Castle Leoch.  
“Our revered Duke has something of a taste for boys, or so I understand,” Colum said quietly at the beginning of the procession.  
“Mmm,” agreed Rupert. Then he added, “Had a wee bit of a taste for a younger Jamie, last time he visited these parts, if I remember rightly.”  
“Jamie was rather a pretty lad at sixteen. There’s several about the Duke that ha’ traded a sore arse for lands and offices.” Dougal said with a wink and a grin.  
“Well, as far as I know... I’m to be Lady of Broch Tuarach... I don’t think Jamie has extra land, offices or a sore arse!” Claire snapped back with roars of laughter following from the MacKenzie brothers.

The Duke was something of a surprise. Claire didn’t know quite what she had been expecting. He had a pleasantly blunt, weatherbeaten face, with light blue eyes that always squinted slightly. After they took their seats for supper, Claire looked around the hall, and noticed that every boy under eighteen wore a slightly wary expression, keeping his eyes fixed on the Duke as he laughed and talked animatedly with Colum and Dougal. It was not merely a joke Colum made earlier, they had been warned she thought.

There was music and conversation throughout dinner, and Colum engaged Master Raymond and Claire in intimate conversation.  
“I am told you are kin to our dear Claire. Searching all of Scotland for your....?” Colum asked Master Raymond.  
“My niece. I am married to Claire’s Aunt. Oui, we became very concerned when she did not arrive in France.” Master Raymond said with his usual charm.  
“I have also brought a gift for you, from my homeland. Claire’s Aunt and I appreciate the hospitality given to our dearest Claire.” Master Raymond presented Colum with the French wine which a servant soon opened and poured for them in glasses.  
“I must say, Master Raymond, this wine is even finer than my Rhenish!” Colum said enthusiastically.  
“I am pleased to hear, for I have brought you more bottles as a gift.” Master Raymond said.  
“That is very generous Master... Raymond, is it?” Colum asked.  
“Oui, Master Raymond, or Monsieur Raymond will do.”  
“And ye donna have a family name?” Colum continued.  
“Ah... Monsieur MacKenzie... I gave up my family name years ago when I married Claire’s Aunt. She is just as beautiful today as Claire is... if you must have a family name, you may call me Monsieur Raymond Thomson.” Master Raymond explained.  
“And why would a man give up his name? I have been informed that Claire is an heiress? The same must be true for her aunt?” Colum inquired invasively.  
“Monsieur MacKenzie, perhaps this is not the occasion to discuss such matters.” Master Raymond replied lightly.  
“Och! Too right ye are! Let us enjoy this fine wine,” Column replied magnanimously.  
“Tell me though, since you recently arrived from France, do ye ken any news of the Prince?” Colum asked eagerly.

While Colum and Master Raymond discussed the Bonnie Prince, toasting their glasses over a cup of water, the Duke of Sandringham grew quite expansive over Colum’s Rhenish wine.  
He talked volubly, expounding equally upon the horrors of travel in the Highlands and the beauties of the countryside. Everyone listened politely, and Claire tried not to catch Colum’s eye as the Duke squeaked out the story of his travails.  
“Broke an axle-tree outside of Stirling, and we were becalmed three days—in the pouring rain, mind you—before my footman could find a blacksmith to come and repair the blasted thing. And not half a day later, we bounced into the most tremendous pothole I’ve ever seen and broke the damn thing again! And then one horse threw a shoe, and we had to unload the coach and walk beside it—in the mud—leading the lame nag. And then…” As the tale went on, from misfortune to misfortune, Claire felt an increasing urge to giggle—but kept a straight face.  
“But the game, MacKenzie, the game!” the Duke exclaimed at one point, rolling his eyes in ecstasy.  
“I could scarce believe it. No wonder you set such a table.” He gently patted his large, solid stomach.  
“I swear I’d give my eyeteeth for a try at a stag like the one we saw two days ago; splendid beast, simply splendid. Leapt out of the brush right in front of the coach,” he confided to the table.  
“Startled the horses so we near as a toucher went off the road again!”  
Colum raised the bell-shaped decanter, with an inquiring look. As he poured to the proffered glasses, he said, “Well, perhaps we might arrange a hunt for ye, your Grace. My nephew’s a bonny huntsman, although he has taken ill to his bed this evening. He glanced sharply from under his brows at Claire.  
Colum sat back, replacing the decanter, and said casually, “Aye, that’ll do well, then. Perhaps early next week. It’s too early for pheasant, but the stag hunting will be fine.”  
He turned to Dougal, “My brother might go along; if you have it in mind to travel northwards, he can show ye the lands we were discussing earlier.”  
“Capital, capital!” The Duke was delighted. Then he padded a young servant boy who was passing by on the leg.

Laoghaire was helping with the feast in the scullery when she got word of Jamie’s illness. Mrs. FitzGibbons made a tray for Jamie and Laoghaire immediately grabbed for it. She would be the one to serve Jamie supper in his room. Mrs. FitzGibbons almost tried to protest, but they were simply too busy with the banquet.  
Laoghaire arrived to Jamie’s chambers to find him undressed and fast asleep on his bed. She froze and her face flushed with anger as she perused the wounds on Jamie’s back. Colum... the bastart tortured his own nephew! Her hands were shaking as she placed the tray down on a table. The memories of her own torture were too fresh in her mind. She sat at the edge of the bed and gently nudged Jamie awake.  
Jamie felt a hand softly caressing him and opened his eyes slowly with a smile. When he saw Laoghaire, his face darkened with contempt. “What are ye doing here lass!” he asked sharply as he sat up in bed.  
Laoghaire walked over to the table to show that his supper was on the table.  
“I told ye to never come to my room again!” He yelled as got up from the bed and walked to the table while Laoghaire backed away and moved towards the door.  
“Ye dinna belong in my room any longer!” He growled while looking at her with open disdain. He picked up the tray and hurled it across the room. The food and ale went flying as the plates and cups all crashed on the floor.  
Laoghaire quickly turned and ran from his chambers and down the halls towards the kitchens. She simply wanted to see Jamie one last time. Now she would have her revenge, she thought as tears rolled down her cheeks. This was her last night at Leoch. She would be sent to marry that filthy blacksmith bastart the next morning.

For about a month, Laoghaire had been visiting the apothecary in town. He was a stubby, overweight and balding man whose small shop was rapidly increasing with business since the demise of Geillis Duncan. Without any coin or a voice, Laoghaire simply pulled up her skirt when she noticed the chubby proprietor’s licentious stare as she perused the herbs and tinctures on display. He would swive her with his small cock in the back room of his shop, and in return, she would take a small vial of arsenic. At first, she simply wanted a poison to kill her soon-to-be husband. But soon she realized she could easily poison the entire castle. She wanted revenge upon Colum, and tonight she would have it. With any luck, Colum and his brothers would be dead by morning. So would the _Sassenach_ witch. She hurried back to the scullery. Now was the time. The banquet was coming to and end. Most of the men would be alone in their beds before they realized they were dying. She eagerly went about her chores assisting Mrs. FitzGibbons on the final plates to be served adding her poison with ease as most of the staff was too distracted to notice.

In Great Hall, Master Raymond bid his farewells to his new “Scottish family.” He had charmed Colum, as well as Dougal, with his witty mannerisms and support of the Bonnie Prince.  
As Claire escorted him out of the hall, Master Raymond pulled her aside for a few private words.  
“Madonna, let us speak plainly. I had some reservation attending this banquet and it’s too dangerous for you to remain here.” He warned.  
“I know... Jamie and I shall be ready soon.” Claire reassured him. “A few more days at most.”  
“I hope so... May God watch over you,” he said and then kissed her hand before leaving Leoch to return to his room in the village.

When Claire returned to the Great Hall, there was a shout from the Hall’s entrance with an outbreak of skirling pipes. An even louder shout greeted the tubs of ale and whisky, accompanied by platters of steaming oatcakes, pudding, and other sweets. Claire attempted to bid her host goodnight, but Colum insisted she remain for one more drink.  
“Nonsense! I insist ye share one more glass of your Uncle’s French wine wi’ me” Colum insisted.  
Claire relented and sat once again with Colum.  
“We also have a fine pudding being served which you must try.” Colum told her.  
Claire smiled and accepted graciously.  
“I am impressed wi’ Monsieur Raymond. He is quite canny.” Colum said.  
“My uncle is a man of great many talents.” Claire said with pride.  
“And how do ye find Leticia? Satisfactory, I hope?”  
“Oh yes, and I thank you. She is a very lovely woman”  
“Aye, she is verra lovely indeed.” Colum said with a small smile as he gazed across the room.  
Claire followed his gaze and noticed Hamish drinking with some of the other castle guards. Realization dawned upon Claire and she wondered why Colum never took Leticia for his wife. Colum’s face openly showed the affection he had for Leticia and their son, Hamish.  
The Duke of Sandringham stood suddenly, and announced his retirement for the evening. Worn out from travel, the Duke and his party would retire to bed.  
_Thank heavens!_ Claire thought as she watch the Duke leave the Great Hall. She was eager for the banquet to end and to return to Jamie.

Jamie opened the door to his room and welcomed Leticia, Claire’s new lady’s maid.  
“I thank ye for bringing me supper at this late hour,” he told her.  
“Och! It’s no trouble at all. It is a busy evening, but I suspect these are festivities ye don’t mind missing. With the Duke grabbing every lad he can get his hands on!” Leticia said.  
Jamie laughed. “I had remembered that. Dinna fash this mess. I threw a tray brought by that traitorous scullery maid, Laoghaire. It was probably poisoned.” He said as she stepped into the room noticing the mess of splattered food and broken plates strewn across the floor.  
“She is to be marrit to the morn and willna work in the scullery or at Leoch ever again,” Leticia informed him.  
“Thank Christ” he replied.  
Leticia nodded and left Jamie alone to sup in his room. Jamie relaxed and smiled as he thought of his bonny Claire. Not only did she carry his bairn, but she made his excuses with Colum so he could rest. He would marry her tomorrow in the Kirk, he thought, as he dined leisurely in his room without any responsibilities to entertain the perverted old Duke. The Duke could go to hell. He would allow nothing to stop him from marrying Claire properly before a priest in the morning.

With all the conversation and entertainment, Claire realized that aside from a few bites of meat, she had barely eaten throughout most of the banquet. Feeling more relaxed as the festivities unwound, she helped herself to some of the final plates that were served at the table. She then got up to retire for the night, as the banquet was coming to a close with the men leaving for their beds or gambling and more whisky in the game rooms. 

While Claire was bidding the MacKenzies goodnight, she felt very strange and slightly confused.  
_Did I drink too much wine?_ she thought. _Impossible!_ She had paced herself with tiny sips all evening. She drank no more than a glass. As Claire left the Great Hall, she bumped into Mistress FitzGibbons.  
“You best clear off to your room right sharp,” she commanded. “Dinna linger in the corridors! There’s not a man in the place who’s not half in his cups already, and they’ll be far gone in an hour.”  
Claire nodded and proceeded through the darkened hallways of Leoch unescorted. As she began to feel ill, the large Castle perplexed her and she quickly became lost wandering its halls in search of her chambers. With her senses deranged, Claire found a door that led to the outside grounds and found it was unlocked. She stepped out onto the grass no more than a few feet before she fell on her hands and knees and vomited.  
_Have I been poisoned?_ she wondered. She vomited again. And again. And again. Exhausted, Claire relaxed into the grass and passed out in the moonlight.

Claire awoke a couple hours later. The moon was still high and sky was dark. Good, she thought. Not that much time had passed. The outside air felt cold on her skin and she was catching a chill. She thought of her symptoms and her diagnostic sense told her yes, it was poison. Her own healing abilities had counteracted most the poison, but the vomiting and outdoor nap had fully restored her. _If you want to poison a witch, you’ll have to do better than that!_ she thought sardonically. The only problem now was finding Jamie’s chambers. Her head was muddled when she wandered outside and she was in an unfamiliar part of the castle.

Claire crept inside through the same unlocked door quietly and walked down the dim hall. She walked as silently as possible as she attempted to find the Great Hall or the scullery. A servant would see her to her room. Claire heard some noises and quietly followed that noise. Perhaps it was the scullery staff. She came upon a room of men gambling and drinking. She could see Dougal, Rupert and Murtagh, with some other men, all playing cards while drinking whisky. She crept passed the room undetected and continued to look for a familiar part of the Castle that would assist in finding the direction to her chambers.

She wandered through the long hallways in the dark. When the loud laughter of drunken men echoed down the hall, Claire became frightened and opened the door to a nearby room and quickly hid inside to wait for the men to pass by.  
A moment later, Claire heard very loud moaning. The Duke of Sandringham was across the large room with two teenage servant boys. One of the boys was on his hands and knees in the middle of a bed. The Duke was spreading buttocks with his hands while licking his ass, while another boy was sitting next to the Duke and jerking the old man’s cock. The Duke was so loud, nobody even noticed Claire had entered the guest room. He was pleading with the young servant. “Show me more of your ass! Spread wider, lad!” He cried out urgently while moaning and panting heavily.

Claire left the room and ran down the hall. She had to find her chambers... she was in a panic when she turned a corner and her body ran into what felt like a brick wall. Stunned, she looked up and saw it was Dougal that she collided with. He reeked of whisky and sweat.  
“What in hell—?” he began, then smiled when he recognized Claire, alone in the dark hallway.  
“I... I got a little sick after dinner, and then got lost... I’m looking for my chambers,” Claire said, a little dazed.  
Dougal glanced down at her, and took her arm, pulling her around to face him.  
“I shouldn’t be down here,” Claire said.  
He was disheveled and clearly had been joining in the roistering in the Hall.  
“True enough, lass,” he said. “Ye shouldna be here. Since ye are, weel, you’ll have to pay the penalty for that,” he murmured, eyes gleaming in the half-dark. And without warning, he pulled Claire hard against him and kissed her. He kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips and force them apart. His tongue flicked against hers, the taste of whisky sharp in her mouth. His hands gripped Claire firmly by the bottom and pressed her against him, making her feel the rigid hardness under his kilt through the layers of her dress and petticoat.  
Dougal pinned Claire against the wall, grabbing both her arms with one hand while lifting her skirts with the other hand. Claire tried to move, but she was trapped... she started to scream and Dougal kissed her again and bit her lip. Claire felt blood in her mouth and his hands were moving over her sex and she felt his fingers penetrate her. Claire stopped fighting. She let her body go limp as his fingers pushed inside her. Dougal lifted his kilt and loosened the grip on her hands. This was Claire’s only chance. Using all her strength, she pushed him away with a force that flowed out from her being. The next moment, Dougal fell backwards to the ground with a loud thud. She heard his head smack the stone floor and a steady stream of blood flowed out from his nose. 

Claire leaned over Dougal’s body. She just couldn’t have killed Jamie’s Uncle... no matter how evil he is.  
“You’re not dead! I didn’t kill you! Do you hear me? I didn’t kill you! Open your eyes!” Claire cried out in panic.  
Just then she saw a pair of boots next to Dougal’s body on the ground. Claire looked up to see Rupert standing over her. She immediately stood up and ran as fast as she could away from the MacKenzie brothers. Rupert grabbed her from behind and told her if it wasn’t for Jamie, he would break her neck right in that moment.  
Rupert brought Claire to a sparsely furnished, windowless room where he tied her hands and feet together and locked her inside. Her only hope was that Jamie would wake up in the morning and look for her. She didn’t know how badly Dougal was hurt. Rupert appeared too suddenly for her to fully assess his condition. Claire cried and prayed for Jamie to find her as she sat uncomfortably tied to a chair for the rest of the night. The MacKenzies were coming; she knew it, and with it she felt the certainty of death. Master Raymond was right, she waited too long to leave. She was always in danger. Now there would be no escape.

In the early hours just before dawn, Jamie awoke and immediately vomited. His muscles were sore and breathing became difficult. He felt the life being squeezed from his body and he could do nothing to stop it. He was unable to move from his bed. He suffered for hours weakly crying out for help, but no one could hear him from his chambers. He eventually closed his eyes to complete darkness.

“Jesus H. Christ! Where did you come from?” Claire exclaimed as she quickly rushed to his side. She touched him and her diagnostic sense said, he has been poisoned and is in shock. His back was covered with wounds so deep, some of the muscle was flayed off. Without another thought, Claire was in ‘crisis mode’ and began preparing to help this wounded man.  
“It’s alright, you’re going to be alright” she whispered to the gravely injured man.  
She grabbed his hand.  
“Mary!” Claire screamed.  
Suddenly Mary appeared and froze looking at Claire and the wounded man.  
“Don’t just stand there!” Claire yelled. “Get an orderly and a damn gurney! This soldier needs our help!”  
Mary ran off to get help as Claire looked at the man and held onto him.  
“Stay with me, now...” she said soothingly.  
“You’re going to be alright.... do you hear me?” Claire whispered while brushing his auburn hair off his forehead.  
Jamie looked up at Claire. The bright lights in the room were blinding him. “Sorcha” he whispered back before closing his eyes and going into unconsciousness.  
“Stay with me!” Claire demanded as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “Open your eyes! You will not leave me! Do NOT let go of my hand” She said firmly.  
The man lifted his head and looked at Claire.  
“That’s it! Keep your eyes open... stay with me! Help is coming.” Claire reassured the strange man.  
Mary soon reappeared with a couple orderlies and the large wounded soldier was placed on a gurney and taken for evaluation. Claire stayed up most of the night following the progress of the ‘mysterious soldier’. 

The next morning, Castle Leoch was in complete chaos. Twenty two MacKenzie men had died throughout the night. And their guest, the Duke of Sandringham, had died as well. They found the Duke dead in the guest bed with a bowl of pudding leftover from the evening’s dinner. Dougal MacKenzie was lying in bed near death as well. And the Laird’s favorite nephew, Jamie, was found dead in his room. His entire backside had been completely disfigured. 

Colum fumed in his library as he paced the room. Rupert and Murtagh sat quietly as they watched their Laird and awaited his instructions.  
“How can this happen!” Colum bellowed.  
They were all stunned and dismayed over the situation. “My entire castle poisoned! A traitor within the walls of my own Keep! And what happened to my nephew? And his backside? Did ye see Jamie was butchered!” He shouted.  
Murtagh and Rupert both remained silent. They knew better than to speak up when Colum was in such a rage.  
Already that morning, every servant had been questioned and every room had been searched. They could find no culprit. Laoghaire had left Leoch before dawn, and was in a Kirk exchanging vows with the blacksmith when the first corpse was discovered.  
“Ye found the _Sassenach_ with Dougal, ye say?” Colum asked again.  
Rupert nodded. “Aye.”  
Colum continued to pace his library. Twenty two men dead. His brother near death and his nephew mutilated and dead as well. Even his guest of honor, the Duke, had died from the poison. _That deceiving wench!_ Colum finally made a decision.  
“Rupert, go slice the _Sassenach’s_ neck. I should have kent the witch was a _Sassenach_ spy! What other explanation could there possibly be?” Colum yelled furiously.  
“Aye,” Rupert said getting up.  
“If I may, my laird?” Murtagh asked finally speaking up.  
“And what is it that ye want?” Colum said impatiently.  
“Weeel, bein’ as I found the _Sassenach_ and Jamie was my godson, it’s my duty to kill the lass,” Murtagh said.  
Colum sighed. “Aye... ye may kill the _Sassenach_ , and Rupert, we must discuss your new role as war chief.”

Claire’s heart began to race when she heard footsteps and keys jangling out in the hall. The door opened and Murtagh was standing in the room with a dirk in his hand. Claire looked up at him and her voice trembled. “Murtagh, be quick–that’s all I beg you. Don’t make me suffer!”  
He moved towards her and she shut her eyes. The next moment her arms and legs were cut free of the rope.  
“Ye must do exactly as I say if ye wish to leave here alive.” Murtagh gave her a long brown cloak with a hood. “Cover yourself, lass,” he said.  
He walked her through the Keep to a small chapel.  
“Stay here and pray. When the priest comes, ye follow him to the village.”  
“Thank you, Murtagh! Thank you for my life and my baby’s life” Claire said through tears.  
“Mistress... dinna ever come back to Leoch,” Murtagh replied before leaving her in the chapel.

Claire followed the priest out of Leoch, hiding in plain site in a monk’s cloak as they walked to the village of Cranesmuir. The priest accompanied Claire through the village until they found Master Raymond at a small inn. The priest gave Claire a blessing before taking his leave and returning to his church.  
Claire quickly told Master Raymond they must leave in haste, and he wasted no time. They packed up his cart and an hour later, Claire was riding away from Leoch... and Jamie. She desperately wanted to go to Jamie, but the events of the evening made that impossible. Not if she wanted to save her life and her unborn child’s life. She would write him a letter. Perhaps, he would find her in France, she thought as tears streamed down her face.

After almost half a day on the road with Master Raymond, Claire realized they were traveling in the wrong direction. “Master Raymond, we are traveling away from Inverness... not towards it.”  
“You are right Madonna... we do not travel to Inverness because we are not going to Inverness.”  
“Not going to Inverness? Why not? We can get a boat easily to France from there.”  
“We will take a ship from Edinburgh. Our first stop is Perth.”  
“Perth? Why would we travel to Perth?” Claire asked. She was completely confused. He had added days to their travel in Scotland.  
“You shall see Madonna... I have given my word not to say. You must trust me.”  
_Hmph! Trust him? What choice did she have?_ Claire thought to herself. She wanted to leave Scotland as soon as possible. Even though she escaped Leoch, she did not feel safe. She had an eerie sense that someone was following them.

After days of travel and little conversation, Master Raymond and Claire finally arrived in Perth. Their destination was a rich and vast estate. The land sloped steeply down into a valley, where the manor house lay half-concealed in a welter of autumn-bright trees. Helwater lay before them. Hidden through the trees, Murtagh watched as Claire and her Uncle approached their destination. Satisfied that Claire was no longer in danger, he mounted his horse and began his journey back to Leoch. 

The morning after the Banquet, coffins were quickly made for all the MacKenzie men that had died from the poison including Jamie and the Duke of Sandringham. The Duke‘s body was sent back to England with an official letter from the Laird explaining his apoplexy. Due to the Duke’s age, no questions would be asked. They held a mass funeral for all that evening with the exception of the Laird’s nephew. Murtagh had informed the Laird that Claire had escaped during the night. Colum immediately sent out a search party of his best trackers to find and return Claire to Leoch for trial. Jamie’s funeral was held the next morning, in private, with just Colum, Rupert, Murtagh and a recovering Dougal in attendance. Colum did not want to send official word to the Earl, Brian Fraser, of Jamie’s death without the apprehension of the culprit responsible. He was not prepared for another clan war. Although rumors circulated throughout Leoch, no one knew for certain of Jamie’s death. After Jamie’s funeral, Murtagh secretly tracked and followed Master Raymond and Claire while leaving tracks to throw the MacKenzie search party off their trail. His heart was broken over his godson’s death, but at least his bairn would survive.

Master Raymond guided his horses and cart onto the estate, with his white wolf, Neige, following close by. At the front of the manor, servants welcomed them and took the horses to the stables to rest and unpacked their cart. Claire walked up the steps of the enormous house in confusion.  
“Where are we?” She whispered to Master Raymond.  
“You are safe Madonna. This is Helwater. I found another Thomson before I found you. She has been expecting us.”  
The door opened and a handsome middle aged woman immediately stepped out. She smiled upon seeing Master Raymond. Neige, the white wolf, ran up the stairs to his mistress.  
“Neige! I have missed ye!” She exclaimed as the animal ran up to the woman... eager for some petting and attention. Clearly the wolf knew this woman well.  
“Mademoiselle, you were quite right about Neige. He was a great assistance in helping me find Claire. I must thank you for insisting I take him along in my search throughout the Highlands.” Master Raymond said.  
The woman stood up. “Of course he was. And ye are quite welcome.”  
The woman slowly stood and walked closer to Claire.

Claire looked at the stately woman in awe. The first impression she had was this woman must be nobility. Claire noticed the woman’s sparkling green eyes. They were so much like her own. _If my mother had lived, she would look like this woman,_ she thought. Much like Master Raymond, she couldn’t place an age on the woman’s smooth and handsome face, although the streaks of grey through her dark curly locks suggested she was middle aged.

“Claire,” she said as she stepped in close. “It’s a great pleasure to meet ye.”  
Claire looked at her neck and noticed an exact copy of the teardrop emerald necklace she wore herself. Claire’s necklace had belonged to her mother and she received it as a gift on her 16th birthday from her Uncle Lamb.  
Claire’s mouth went dry. “Its a pleasure to meet you as well, but, who are you?”  
The woman smiled. “My name is Margarete Thomson. I was expecting Master Raymond to bring me my granddaughter Julia. But I am just as pleased to meet you, Claire. You are my great granddaughter.”  
It was after Claire heard those words that she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, this story is not done.... I’ve decided continue it here since some people bookmarked it and there doesn’t seem to be a word limit... next part “book two” takes place during dragonfly in amber timeline wise... but doesn’t follow with the canon, as usual


	37. The Nurse and The Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Book 2 - While working as a nurse at Pembroke Hospital, Claire helps a friend and meets a mysterious wounded soldier who she find herself attracted to...

When the outbreak of war spread through Europe, Claire decided to join nurses training as the urgency of mobilizing the entire population made the role of women vital to the war effort. As a Royal Army Nurse, she lived in the nurses’ quarters, at field station in France for 6 months, then later at Pembroke Hospital.

Claire’s best friend at Pembroke was another nurse, and her roommate, Mary Hawkins. From the first moment Claire met Mary, she liked her. She was so open, friendly and full of life. She was as beautiful as she was confident and she was never afraid to speak her mind. The two women quickly became confidants; Mary was the first person Claire had ever considered a true friend. Mary could always brighten her mood. When she found Claire crying after she lost a patient, Mary grabbed her and said “Come, lets go to our beds now and make fun of people.” Claire followed her and they retired to their room and talked into the night. Mary informed Claire of all the latest hospital gossip. Claire giggled in dark listening to Mary’s stories until they both found sleep.

Claire was in the middle of cleaning sheets with Mary when she met the new chief of surgery. Tom Christie walked in and cheerfully said “Hello Mary!”  
Mary looked up and bowed her head “How nice to see you again doctor.”  
“Pardon my interruption, I just wanted to introduce myself to the young lady. She seems to be a favorite among the patients.” He looked at Claire “I’m Tom Christie, the new chief surgeon.  
“Pleased to meet you doctor, I’m Claire Beauchamp.”  
“And have you been making Claire feel at home here Mary?” He asked.  
“I certainly have doctor,” Mary replied.  
“I’m sure you have,” he said. “Nobody can make a person feel quite at home as Mary can. I look forward to working with you, Claire! Carry on ladies,” he said as he walked out of the door.  
“Mary!” Claire half whispered and half shouted, “How do you know him?”  
Mary shrugged. “He was a resident here before, and I guess now he’s been stationed here again. I would avoid being alone with him” Mary said with her head down. She wouldn’t look Claire in the eye.  
“Well, he’s very handsome. I’m quite sure he gets plenty attention from the female staff. I’m sure he has no need to flirt with me,” Claire replied.  
Mary laughed. “Claire, you are a great beauty, yet you don’t realize it.... of course he is going to flirt with you! There are dozens of men here dying to marry you”  
“I’m only 20 years old...” Claire replied.  
“You’ll be 21 in a month..” Mary reminded her.  
Claire shrugged. “Still, I don’t want a husband yet...”

That winter, when the snow had blanketed the ground, several of the staff got ill. Tom Christie, their chief surgeon, was one of the many that caught the flu. Mary and Claire worked tirelessly tending not only to the hospital patients but the hospital’s sick staff. Mary often insisted on bringing Doctor Christie his meals and she doted over him so much, she scarcely saw another patient. Mary also was coming to bed very late at night. It was over these weeks that Claire’s noticed a change in Mary. She didn’t smile or talk to Claire like she used to. It also seemed as if Mary was going out of her way to avoid her.

The next morning, Claire woke up early and sat in the room waiting for Mary to wake up. She wouldn’t be put off so easily.  
Mary awoke to a very stern Claire sitting beside her.  
“Claire, what are you doing sitting there?” She asked.  
“I’m waiting to talk to you. You haven’t been yourself lately and you’re my dearest friend. I want to know what the bloody problem is.” Claire said firmly.  
Mary sat up in bed sharply. With a frown she loudly stated “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas, CLAIRE!”  
Claire stared back as Mary’s face darkened again. She watched silently as Mary grabbed her stomach and leaned over the side of her bed to vomit.  
“Claire! It’s not what you think!” Mary cried out after the nauseas had passed.  
“How do you know what I think?”  
“You mustn’t tell anyone!” She begged.  
“Oh Mary, you’re my dearest friend. I will not tell a soul, but I also think you need to confide in someone.”  
Mary then out a sob and Claire rushed over to her. She hugged Mary close and tried to give her every bit of comfort she could.  
“He promised to marry me,” Mary whispered. “And he gave me a ring and for once I wanted to believe him. I thought he wasn’t like other men. But now he’s gone back on his promise and he won’t even speak to me!”  
“Who is this bastard?”  
“I cannot say. But as soon as anyone finds out about this, I know I’ll be turned away from here. I have no family to turn to. I’ll have to go to the streets and find a way to feed myself and my baby. That kind of life will be the end of me.”  
“No, that won’t happen,” Claire said. “You must tell me who it is. He cannot get away with this!”  
“Yes, he can. He’s running this hospital Claire. He can ruin my reputation.” Mary cried.  
Claire’s eyes widened.... “No! It can be him!”  
“Yes, it’s Doctor Christie’s baby!” Mary sobbed.  
“Have you told him?”  
“I did try to talk to Tom. I cried to him. He gave me £20! That’s all! That is what his child is worth to him!” She yelled. Mary stood up and paced the room. “He said he didn’t even think the child was his since I’ve been so obliging with him. He asked if I’ve been the same with the other doctors! He said if I threaten him with a scandal he will deny it and I will ruin whatever reputation I have left.”  
“That bloody bastard!” Claire hissed. She was totally disgusted by his behavior. Mary was the best friend she had, and she couldn’t help but feel hatred for Dr. Christie now.  
“Claire I need your help.” Mary pleaded.  
“I will do anything to help Mary.”  
“I need to borrow some of your savings. There is a doctor who helps whores when they are in trouble. I can get him to take away my problem.” Mary explained.  
Claire suddenly became frightened. “Don’t go Mary. Don’t see this doctor. There has to be another way.”  
“There’s not. I will be fine Claire. Don’t worry. May I please borrow some of your savings?” Mary stared at her with tears streaming down her face.  
“No,” Claire said. “I will help you.” she added with a sigh.  
“Help me? How?”  
“Well, if you can keep my secret, I will keep yours.”  
Mary sat down next to her on the bed. “Of course, anything... You are my best friend Claire. I would never betray you, but what do you mean?”  
“Well... I come from a long line of ‘wise women’” Claire chuckled. “My family... ancestors... assisted with births, but also with other matters that afflict women. I can help you Mary.”  
“You mean, you can... stop this pregnancy?”  
“Yes,” Claire answered. “Although I wish not to, but if you’re determined to see this doctor, than I prefer to do it myself. I don’t want to see you hurt Mary.”  
“Oh, Claire... please... I cannot have this child... please!” Mary cried as tears rolled down her cheeks.  
“Alright, lets go check our schedules. We need to both take the same day off.”

Two days later, Claire stood over Mary as she slept in her bed. Claire had given her some chamomile tea laced heavily with sedatives. She told Mary it was the tea that would end the pregnancy. It was just easier that way. How could she ever explain to her friend the powers that she inherited? It was a secret she guarded and used with caution. As Mary slept, Claire placed her hand over her womb and induced the miscarriage. She wasn’t very far along, and there would be blood, but not very much. Claire felt as if she was saving a life rather than taking one. Mary was a headstrong, determined woman. Claire did not trust this ‘doctor’ she found to end her pregnancy. Far too many desperate and vulnerable women died in such circumstances. Claire also wanted Mary to still be able to have children one day. 

A month later, when Claire and Mary were doing some light cleaning in a lab, the lights suddenly went out then flickered back on.  
“I’ll get it,” Claire said as she walked to the fuse box and noticed a hallway that led to a room she’d never seen. Thinking herself way too distracted, since she never noticed this before, she began to walk down the short hallway to an odd wooden door. She opened it and saw very large and muscular nude man sprawled on the floor badly wounded and vomiting. He looked like he was dying.  
“Jesus H. Christ! Where did you come from?” Claire exclaimed as she quickly rushed to his side. She touched him and her diagnostic sense said, he has been poisoned and is in shock. His back was covered with wounds so deep, some of the muscle was flayed off. Without another thought, Claire was in ‘crisis mode’ and began preparing to help this wounded man.  
“It’s alright, you’re going to be alright” she whispered to the gravely injured man.  
She grabbed his hand.  
“Mary!” Claire screamed.  
Suddenly Mary appeared and froze looking at Claire and the wounded man.  
“Don’t just stand there!” Claire yelled. “Get an orderly and a damn gurney! This soldier needs our help!”  
Mary ran off to get help as Claire looked at the man and held onto him.  
“Stay with me, now...” she said soothingly.  
“You’re going to be alright.... do you hear me?” Claire whispered while brushing his auburn hair off his forehead.  
“Sorcha” he whispered back before closing his eyes and going into unconsciousness.  
“Stay with me!” Claire demanded as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “Open your eyes! You will not leave me! Do NOT let go of my hand” She said firmly.  
The man lifted his head and looked at Claire.  
“That’s it! Keep your eyes open... stay with me! Help is coming.” Claire reassured the strange man.  
Mary soon reappeared with a couple orderlies and the large wounded soldier was placed on a gurney and taken for evaluation. Claire stayed up most of the night following the progress of the ‘mysterious soldier’. His wounds were severe and she knew the Nazis performed torture experiments on captured soldiers. Claire’s prayed for the man as he went into surgery that evening.

The next day, Claire visited her new mysterious patient while she was doing her rounds. He was recovering well post op although quite groggy from pain medication.  
“Hello, how are you feeling, soldier?” Claire said gently as she lightly touched his forehead.  
The large man was lying on his stomach in a hospital bed with his wounds bandaged. He had an IV to administer medicines and his vitals were normal. He still needed a number of procedures to fully heal, but at least now he was stable.  
The soldier opened his eyes slowly. “I canna move much.... I... “  
“Shhhh.... it’s alright... I found you last night.... you had your stomach pumped and underwent surgery.”  
“Stomach pumped? Surgery?” the soldier repeated.  
“Yes, you were poisoned with arsenic. You were also tortured?”  
“Aye,” the soldier said.  
“Just relax and rest now. The worst is over now. The muscle damage on your back has been surgically corrected and you also underwent several rounds of Hemodialysis during the night to remove the poison from your bloodstream before it could damage your system. Your internal organs show no sign of inflammation.”  
Jamie touched the IV at his arm then gave it a tug.  
“Careful!” she said moving his hand away. “You must not touch that and leave the IV in your arm. It’s clearing your body of poison.”  
“I dinna ken how a needle poking my arm will stop the poison.”  
“This is called Chelation therapy. The liquid in this bag contains drugs that are being administered to your bloodstream through that needle. The drugs will bind with any poison left in your system be excreted through your urine. This will clear your body of the poison.” she explained. Her patient nodded slowly and she covered him with another blanket. “Do you think you can get some sleep?”  
“Aye” he answered softly.  
“Good. I’m glad I found you. You were very close to death. My name is Claire Beauchamp... I’ll be your nurse.”  
“I’m.... James...... Alexander Malcom MacKenzie Fraser,” he added.  
Claire chuckled. “A Scotsman! Are you royalty too with so many names?”  
Jamie let out a small laugh, “Nay lass, but ye may call me Jamie.”  
“Well, you may call me Claire... I’m pleased to meet you, Jamie.... do get some rest now.”  
“May I ask ye a question before you go, Claire?”  
“Of course.”  
“Where am I?”  
“South Pembrokeshire Hospital... You’re in Wales,” she said before leaving the patient.  
Claire let out an exhale as she walked down the hall. Despite Jamie’s pallor, he was so austerely handsome with a muscular figure that Claire felt her face flush thinking about him as she continued on with her daily duties.

Jamie laid on the hospital bed full of wonder. Was he dreaming? Claire was here. She had touched his hand, and he knew it was not his Claire. She was different. Jamie was not wearing his gloves and everything he touched reminded him he was not in his own time. Jamie wasn’t even sure exactly what year it was. He arrived here completely nude with no weapons. Not even his dirk. Now as he lay in this unfamiliar place, without any imminent danger apparent, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. He would feel better if he had his dirk. He was constantly groggy and falling asleep. He wanted to see Claire again. This different Claire, she was younger than his Claire and wore no cursed wedding ring. _She’s no’ cursed,_ he thought and fell to sleep as he imagined seducing nurse Claire.

Over the next two days, Jamie worked hard to befriend Claire. She, in return, visited Jamie every moment she could. Claire kept Jamie in an empty small private room reserved for high ranking officers. She made certain no other nurse moved him to one of the more crowded recovery rooms. While this was against hospital rules, Claire took a risk anyway. Her diagnostic sense told her there was something unusual about the Scotsman, and she wanted to keep a close eye on him. She felt a strong connection to the soldier which was a disconcerting revelation to Claire. But Jamie was also a most amiable patient and also made her laugh often. She could not help but notice a budding attraction to him. She tried to keep him comfortable and brought him books to pass the time. He was fascinated by Hemingway’s ‘Farewell to Arms’ and asked many peculiar questions about war for a soldier. 

“On your feet soldier!” Claire said with a teasing smile as she stood in Jamie’s room early in the morning with a wheelchair. Today she would take him to the plastic and reconstructive surgery ward, where they would evaluate him for skin grafts. Jamie’s condition was stabilized, and now he was a good candidate for reconstructive surgery.  
“Good morrow, Claire!”  
Jamie gave Claire a look that made her stomach flutter. When his blue, slanted, cat like eyes focused on her, she felt weak in the knees. It was a sin how attractive this man was! He was probably a rogue and had a different woman for each day of the week!  
“Good morning, Jamie! Today, You’ll be evaluated for reconstructive plastic surgery on your back,” she said as neutrally as she could manage. She didn’t want her patient to know he had an affect on her.  
Jamie looked at her speculatively.  
“Plastic surgery?” He repeated.  
Claire nodded. His soft accent was just another one of his charms.  
“Yes, Jamie. You’re an excellent candidate, and your back will heal much faster. Trust me...” she said.  
“Aye, I trust ye Claire,” he said as he got up and walked to her.  
“Come now... sit... I will wheel you to the new ward.” Claire told him.  
“I’m no’ a cripple...”  
“Yes. I know, but these are hospital rules.” Claire informed him.  
As Claire wheeled Jamie through the hospital, he kept her smiling.... making jokes and strange observations. Clearly the man had never spent any significant time in a hospital before. But his perspective was refreshing and endeared him to her even more... _My Soldier,_ she thought smiling.

Jamie underwent several rounds of skin grafts and his body healed exceptionally fast. When she was alone with Jamie, Claire would touch his back and use her power to assist with the healing. Whenever Claire wasn’t busy, she always found an excuse to visit her soldier. Jamie was quite the storyteller, and he would talk old Scottish folklore and even entertaining stories about his family in Scotland. The more familiar they became with each other, the more they teased each other. Throughout the months, their flirtations began to become heated.

“Jamie... you are almost fully healed and the hospital will soon be preparing papers for your discharge.”  
“Aye” Jamie replied. “I dinna ken what I will do without your sponge baths.”  
Claire laughed. “I do give the best sponge baths!”  
“Aye, that you do lass,” Jamie replied huskily and Claire felt her face begin to flush.  
_If only he wasn’t so god damn attractive,_ she thought silently. “Well, I should see to the other patients,” Claire said as she moved towards his door.  
Jamie sat up in the bed. “Claire! Wait!” He said urgently.  
Claire looked at him and his face was changed. The teasing, mockery was gone and he looked at her with an intensity.  
“C’mere Claire.”  
Claire responded to his request and moved in closer towards Jamie.  
“I want to thank ye, Mo nighean dubh,” Jamie said and brought his hand to gently touch her face.  
Claire’s stomach did summersaults as Jamie touched her cheek gently. She looked into his blue eyes and wanted to kiss him. She felt her face flush and knew it was turning red.  
“Y...You’re welcome...” she squeaked out and turned on her heel and quickly left the room.  
Claire walked quickly through the busy hallways trying to regain her equilibrium. Her solider soldier made her nervous and when she was too close to him, she ran like a coward. She did not handle that well at all. She felt like a silly schoolgirl with a crush. But she also felt a powerful attraction to Jamie. This was the first time she felt this way. _Ever._

“Christ, she’s like a skittish horse,” Jamie said out loud after she left the room. For many days, too many for him to count, Jamie couldn’t move and the medicine he was given made him sleep most of the time. He was almost fully healed now, and each time he reached out to Claire, she ran from him. Only to come back later. For a sennight, they played this game of cat and mouse. He watched her tiny arse in her white uniform as she flitted around his room and he couldn’t help but get aroused. He loved seeing the outline of her little breasts when she was bent over tending him. He asked her age and she shyly replied that she had “just turned 21.” As daft as the question was, he also asked her the date. It was the 10th day of November in the year 1941. It would be another 5 years until Claire traveled back to his time. Had he truly spent over 2 months with his young Claire in her own century? Or was this all a dream?

Jamie went into the bathroom and turned on the light. He pissed in the toilet and flushed it while thinking of the stinkin’ garderobes at Leoch. Everything was much cleaner in this time. Jamie looked at himself in the mirror.  
“Och! No wonder she ran from ye,” he said to himself as he looked at the auburn stubble on his face and neck in the mirror. It was itchy and uncomfortable. He opened the bag of toiletries Claire had given him. Most things were no longer a mystery during this time. He touched many unfamiliar items and would see an image of how it was last used. He picked up the the metal instrument. ‘Gillette Safety Razor’ he read. Jamie soaped his face and set upon his task of shaving. When he was done, he brushed his teeth. He smiled thinking of when Claire did these things for him when he was unable to leave his bed. She had been so close to him, but he was too wounded to move or touch her. He would remedy that tonight. He was certain she would visit tonight. The wee vixen.

Jamie turned on the shower and removed the loose fitting hospital trews. Only the largest size was big enough to fit him.  
“Christ Claire! Are ye tryin to torture me again, lass?” He called out to her when he first attempted to put on the trews she gave him in the bathroom.  
“Jamie, you cannot always lay in bed naked. And you won’t wear the hospital gowns! You keep taking them off!” She yelled through the door.  
Her face was beet red after he told her “I cannae wear trews that doona let a man hang as he should!”  
When he stepped out of the bathroom, she bolted from the room blushing after getting an eyeful of his manhood bulging out of the tight, ill fitting ‘hospital pants’ that he donned. She later returned with the largest size available. 

Jamie inspected his back in the mirror. He could see it partially, and it looked better each day. They put “grafts”, as Claire called them, over the wounded skin. Jamie also had some healing wounds now on his upper legs and his arse from where they took skin and placed it on his back. He could hardly complain when he saw other patients in the ward. Most of the men were burn victims and suffering beyond compare. Jamie’s punishment seemed unworthy of this miraculous treatment, but Claire was most insistent. As a result, his back was healing and much improved. He was no longer missing skin in the places where the whip had flayed him. Aye, some things are better here, he thought. But after seeing horrific injuries and reading about the modern methods of war, he was not certain this was a better time than his own. It was dangerous. When he returned, he would never allow Claire to leave him. He was not certain how long his young nurse Claire was going to keep him in this time. He had felt her powerful hold on him. She wanted to keep him here and heal him. He was under her spell for now.

Jamie stepped into the hot shower and thought about all the things he would do to nurse Claire. Claire had told him in the past about the hot showers. He was quite fond of them himself now. He soaped his cock and began to stroke himself. Pleasuring himself in the shower was becoming a daily habit.  
He thought of her little breasts and tight arse while stroking himself. He knew she was a virgin. Perhaps, Claire had sent him to her time before Frank for a reason. If Claire wants him to take her maidenhead, then have him she shall. He would pleasure her like no other man could. “That wee vixen,” he gasped as he brought himself to completion.

Claire was finishing her shift and was completely stressed out. She couldn’t stop thinking of _her_ soldier. That gigantic muscular Scotsman. Her Jamie. At night, she would think of him while quietly rubbing her sensitive spot between her legs. She would dream about Jamie making love to her. One morning she woke up with her hand still in her panties. But when she was with him, she was nervous and awkward. She had never been with a man and when they touched, she felt an overwhelming connection as well as arousal. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought Jamie had some magic that was similar to her own. But she knew that was impossible. The powers she possessed were passed down through the women of her clan. She worried now because he would be discharged soon. What if she never saw him again? What if he never wanted to see her again? He could be married... no, he would have mentioned a wife. Engaged, perhaps? Then why did touch her face? Was he just being kind? Claire went to the nurse’s station and grabbed a pen. She wrote her Uncle’s address in England down. She would move there soon if accepted to the London School of Medicine for Women. She took the address and placed it in the plastic sheath of her name badge and walked to Jamie’s room. She would give him her address and invite him to write. _As friends_. That was safe. She never had a boyfriend before and did not want to make the man uncomfortable if he did in fact have other ties. Perhaps they would become friends. One thing was certain, he wouldn’t be at the hospital much longer. _You have to let him go,_ she thought. 

Claire found Jamie reading quietly in bed. He had shaved and tied his hair back and looked far too handsome. Claire felt her mouth go dry. It was probably because her panties were now wet. “Hello, Jamie... How are you feeling?” She asked while hoping she appeared calm. Her heart began to beat faster the moment she looked at him.  
“Verra well, thanks to you, Claire.”  
“Yes, well... you’ll be discharged soon.” She said quietly.  
“Aye... so ye said. Claire, May I ask something of ye?”  
“Of course, what do you need, Jamie?”  
“Weeel, I wanted ye to look at my back. I canna see it fully in the mirror.” He said sheepishly.  
“Of course I will.” Claire said and she shut the door to the room to examine him.  
Jamie turned to lie on his stomach and Claire moved her hands over his back. He had a few scars, but his skin was radically improved. Claire touched another scar by his shoulder, and older wound that she was sure was caused by a bullet. Jamie had once been shot.  
“It’s it... verra ugly?” Jamie asked quietly.  
“No... not at all Jamie. Some of these scars will fade over time too. I have something for you.” She said and took a small bottle of salve out of her pocket and used some on the scars.  
“I’m glad to hear it. I couldna bear it if you couldna look at me,” he said.  
“It’s not so bad, Jamie.” She reassured him. Claire continued to move her hands lightly over his back with the salve. Once again healing him.  
“Ye have a healing touch, Claire,” he said quietly.  
“You certainly could say that.” She said with a small smile.  
“Will ye look at the other scars?”  
Claire looked over at him and he stared back at her with a look of questioning. She didn’t want to reject the man or make him feel like he was disfigured.  
“Of course... you’ll have to remove the hospital pants,” she said.  
Jamie lifted his hips and untied the loose fitted pants and Claire helped him gently pull them off.  
Claire sat at the edge of the bed next to Jamie looking at his nude backside. She placed some salve on the healed skin of his buttocks and upper thighs. The doctors had used a good amount of his own skin for the reconstructive grafts.  
Despite the scars, Jamie was still too beautiful not to stare at. She brushed her hands gently over his firm buttocks, his muscular thighs. Then she moved her hands up to the small of his back and then around his hips. 

It was while Claire was caressing him that she became aware of her own need. Her caresses became less clinical and more sensual. She felt liquid heat pooling between her legs and she dropped the salve on the floor and immediately stood up panicking. _Jesus H. Christ! You’re feeling the man up! Be professional!_ she thought.

Jamie had been enjoying Claire’s caresses immensely. For a moment, he thought he wouldna even have to seduce her at all. She was seducing him. Then she stood. Jamie looked at Claire’s wide eyes and he thought she would run out of the room. He quickly turned over and sat up.  
“Claire... do ye want me, lass?” Jamie asked her. She was shaking slightly, and he waited for her to run away from him again, but she did not move. Jamie watched her eyes move over and down his chest then lower to his hard cock.

Claire stood shaking slightly as she looked at Jamie. She was so aroused, she thought at any moment she going to climax. And she wasn’t even touching herself. Her cheeks reddened and she could barely breathe as she felt the tingling and quiver between her legs as her eyes feasted upon Jamie’s cock. He was hard, long, thick and well balled.  
“You’ve no’ seen a man naked before?” he guessed.  
“Noo,” she said, “I have, only … it wasn’t …”  
“Do ye want me, Claire?” Jamie asked again with a knowing smile. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his rigid manhood.  
“I... I don’t know what to do... I mean, I’m a virgin,” she said shakily. She was so aroused, two strokes, no one stroke between her legs and she would orgasm. She wondered if Jamie would touch her. All these thoughts rushed through her head as she stared at Jamie’s erection. 

Jamie sat up in the bed and grabbed her hand. He immediately groaned and his cock leaked with his seed. The power Claire shared with Jamie gave him an ability to tap into Claire’s emotional state. With just a touch of his hand, he could sense if she was sad or upset... or if she was happy... Right now Jamie could sense her arousal. It shot like bolts of electricity through him and made him ache. 

Jamie sat Claire on the bed and pushed her back to the mattress. He quickly pushed her skirt up over her hips and belly, then made quick work of removing her stockings and underwear. He simply tore them off of her.  
He spread trembling legs and then stroked her soft wet center. He gently sunk 2 fingers into her and began pumping them upwards while he stroked her sensitive little pearl with the other hand. Claire panted and trembled beneath him for just a few moments before reaching a heart pounding climax. Jamie felt her clench and soak his fingers with her honey.  
“That’s my lass!” he said with an boastful smile and continued his ministrations as she rode out the waves of bliss. After watching Claire climax, he became afraid he wouldn’t be able to take her virginity with the necessary gentleness. His balls ached with need, and he could feel his heartbeat, pounding in his temples. He needed release now.

As her shudders subsided, Claire looked shyly at Jamie’s hand wrapped around his cock stroking himself. Claire continued to stare as stroked himself faster, bracing his head against his propped arm. His breathing was rough. Claire looked into Jamie’s eyes and he let out a moan as he climaxed; spilling himself over her mound, belly and thighs. Jamie then collapsed beside her on the bed.  
Claire wondered if that was it? She thought for sure he would take her virginity.  
“I’m sorry lass,” he said getting a cloth to wipe his seed off her. “I couldna hold back.”  
“Why did you use your hands on me?” Claire asked with confusion.  
“You didna wish for me to pleasure you?” he asked with equal confusion.  
“No, I did want that...”  
“I ken it, Claire...”  
“So that’s it, then?” She felt slightly confused.  
“Nay, I havena even started. Be quit of this dress. _Now._ ” he said with urgency.

Claire stood up and removed her nurses uniform, her shoes, and the remnants of her torn pantyhose.  
Jamie touched her bra. “Show me your breasts, my love,” he gently demanded.  
Claire took off her bra and stood nude in front of Jamie. She started to feel self conscious, but Jamie took her hands and drew her close so she stood between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.  
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Claire,” he said and then began to kiss and nibble lightly on her breasts.  
Claire sucked in her breath as he took her nipple into his mouth and gently suckled it while his hands gently squeezed her ass.  
“Can I turn off the light?”  
“Nay, I want to look at you,” he said and he moved her to the bed. Claire lay flat on her back and Jamie spread her legs wide and kneeled between them.  
“You’re so bonny, Claire.” he whispered as he moved down between her legs.

Claire closed her eyes while Jamie moved so close to her center, she could feel his breath on her sex. He spread her outer lips with his fingers and then she felt that pleasurable sensation once again as Jamie lapped and teased her clit with his tongue. Claire’s legs trembled and shook as Jamie brought her close to her peak once more then moved his tongue away.  
Claire tried to move her legs, but he held them firmly apart and she gasped as she felt his tongue enter her. He probed her gently with his tongue. Plunging it in and out of her which made her shiver. Jamie then resumed teasing her clit with an intensity that quickly brought her to another pulsing orgasm. 

Jamie sat up and then lay his body over hers settling his hips at her center. He was hard once more.  
“You’re so wet Claire... Ye taste like honey.”  
“That felt like heaven,” she replied softly.  
“I’m going to take you now... It might hurt for a moment, but I’ll try to go slow, my love,” he whispered.  
“It’s alright, I won’t break,” Claire said and then felt Jamie hardness at her opening. She gasped at an unfamiliar stretching sensation as his thick length pushed into her. Then he stopped as he felt a resistance.  
“That wasn’t so bad,” she whispered in his ear.  
“I’m no’ even halfway in... this may hurt...”  
“It’s ok, I’m tougher than you think...”  
Reassured, he plunged through the barrier, claiming her and stretching her to her limit.  
Claire cried out in pain, and Jamie froze. He stayed still deep within her for some moments, until he felt Claire move her hips slowly against him. Then Jamie began to rock gently against her.  
Claire moaned and he drank her little sounds into his mouth, kissing her while pushing faster, deep within her. She began to match his urgent rhythm, and although he knew it had caused her pain, her desire quickly surpassed the tearing of her maidenhead.  
“Jamie...” she said as she rocked herself against him squeezing her legs tighter around him.  
Jamie kissed and bit down lightly on her neck, and when he began to feel her tighten and contract around him, he drove himself into her peak, hard and fast and deep, over and over until he was nearly mindless with savage need.  
“Och, lass,” he said roughly, caught up in her spasms, “I canna ride out this storm.” And as he thrust inside her so hard it nearly hurt him, he cried out as he climaxed powerfully inside her. He felt himself trembling as the contraction of her body drew forth his seed.

They lay together for a time as their breath and heart rates returned to normal.  
“Did I hurt you, my sweet Claire?”  
“A bit,” she confessed. “But no more than I expected after seeing that… large sword you have there...  
He smiled, his eyes dancing. “It is a God-given sword.” He sucked her lower lip. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, lass. I fear I was without sense for a time there.”  
“No, it’s alright. I enjoyed it.”  
“I wanted your first time to... I wanted it to be good for ye... I had hoped ye would enjoy it.” He said soberly.  
“I did, Jamie... I was hoping you would be my first.” she confessed and wrapped her arms around him. For over a month she had fantasized about Jamie taking her virginity.  
“But then why you were naysaying me, Claire? Every time I got close, you ran out of the room or needed to tend to other patients.”  
Claire closed her eyes and sighed. “I was afraid of you,” she finally admitted. “I was very attracted to you and wasn’t sure you felt the same or would make love to a virgin.”  
“You honor me Claire,” he said and kissed her gently. She’d chosen to give herself to him. As her hands traced gentle circles on his chest—he felt a tenderness that meant much to him. Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire and they both fell to sleep.

Claire rose from the bed in a panick and quickly picked up her clothes. She took her torn panties and stockings and hid them in the bottom of the wastebasket. She heard Jamie groan.  
“I have to go to my room. It’s very late and my roommate might think I’m missing and send people to search for me,” she said.  
“Aye” he said with a sigh as he awoke from his slumber.  
“I just need to clean myself... I’ll be quick about it.”  
“What do ye need to clean up? Do ye mean to wash away my seed?” He said with a frown.  
Claire looked at him and just shook her head. “It’s dripping out of me, and you tore apart my undergarments!” she said and walked into the bathroom.  
Jamie thought about his seed dripping out of her little tight quim, and that aroused him once more. He wanted to spread her legs wide and see his seed fall from her in the bright electrical lighting of the room. 

Claire stepped into the bathroom and Jamie was immediately behind her. He took the cloth from her hand and got on his knees behind her.  
“Allow me, Claire,” he said gently.  
“Jamie, what are you doing!”  
“Im going to clean you, my love,” and he reached between her legs. Jamie knelt behind her and nudged her legs far apart. “Bend over Claire,” he said as he rubbed between her legs.  
Jamie looked at her lips slick with his seed and felt his blood pulsing again. Instead of cleaning her, he began to massage her sensitive area while spreading her legs further apart. He looked at her little rosebud pucker and began licking the tiny ring.  
Claire gasped as she felt Jamie’s tongue on her ass. He licked her while rubbing her sensitive clit and she was panting and aroused once more.  
Jamie stood up. “I will take your virginity there too,” he said almost arrogantly with a smile.  
Claire looked at him in shock.  
“Dinna fash, it will no’ be today,” he said with a chuckle and moved to the small shower. “Take a hot shower wi’ me, Claire,” he said while turning on the water.  
When the temperature was right, Claire squeezed into the small shower with her gigantic soldier and he put his large hands under her buttocks and picked her up as she leaned against the wall as if she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he slowly entered her once more while the steam from the water began to fill the bathroom. This time there was no pain, as Jamie moved within her while holding her firmly in his hands. Claire kissed his neck and his face as the hot water sprayed down on them. Claire moaned as she felt the sensation building within her once more. She ground her hips into him harder and cried out with the final release. Jamie growled in her ear as he peaked with her, their bodies shuddering against each other. When Jamie finally put Claire down, he took the soap and carefully washed her body.  
“You have the loveliest arse, Claire.”  
“So do you,” she said with a smile.

The left the bathroom sated and clean and Claire knew it was time to leave. She began dressing in her uniform when Jamie grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “I dinna want ye to leave.”  
“I must... I work here. I can’t get caught sleeping with a patient... in his room.” she said quietly.  
Jamie nodded, then pulled her in closely for a kiss. He kissed her gently and tenderly. Claire thought about how he called her “my love” several times that night. Did he say that to all his women? Or did he perhaps have some feeling for her?  
Jamie broke away from the kiss and looked into in her green eyes. “I love you, Mo nighean dubh.”  
Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. It was as if Jamie could read her mind. And her heart suddenly felt so full, she thought it might burst.  
“Wh... what were those words you just said? You’ve said them before to me?” She asked hesitantly.  
“It’s Gaelic.... It means my dark haired lass,” he whispered and his fingers brushed through her hair.  
“I... I love you too, my soldier.” She took her nametag and gave it to Jamie.  
He looked at it. “What’s this?”  
“It’s something to remember me by.”  
He looked at the small badge with Claire’s name and a small picture of her. “Aye, I shall keep it with me always.”  
Claire turned the badge over to show him the paper she slid into the plastic sheath. “I wrote down my Uncle’s address in London. Perhaps, when you get stationed away from here, you could write?”  
“I promise I will see you again very soon, Claire.”  
Claire left for the nurse’s bunks almost tearfully. Not only tears of sadness, but of joy. She had met the man of her dreams, if only... they weren’t in the middle of a war right now. He would be leaving the hospital. And her. She knew she had to let him go. For now. He promised they would meet again and her diagnostic sense told her that he was not lying.

The next morning, the first thing Claire did was pay a visit to Jamie, but his room was empty and cleaned. Claire went to the nurse’s station to find his paperwork, but that was gone as well. Claire stomped around the offices in frustration. Nobody could give her any information. What the hell kind of a hospital is this? He was just here! They had all seen him, yet nobody remembered that giant Scottish soldier! Unbelievable! She couldn’t even remember Jamie’s full name. He had given her so many names... Jamie Malcom Allen MacKenna? Damn. She couldn’t remember exactly. And nobody could search for his release forms without a name. His original charts just had the name Jamie F. Like many of the wounded, he had been unconscious most of the time when he was first admitted to fill out the admittance forms. Claire went about the rest of her day in a terrible mood. She should have asked for his full name again and written it down. Or his address... something! She thought she would be there when he was released. Perhaps he would write. He promised he would see her again soon.

It was exactly 8 weeks later that Claire’s life changed forever. She had been in a depressed mood since her soldier had disappeared. Even Mary couldn’t cheer her up. She was constantly fatigued and sick to her stomach. After repeated bouts of nausea in the morning, it was Mary that finally alerted Claire to her condition.  
“Claire, you’ve been sick a lot. Don’t you think it’s time to see a doctor?” Mary asked her.  
Claire shrugged. “See a doctor? And say what? I’m dying from a broken heart?”  
“Claire, you have more than a broken heart. Remember when I used to have morning nausea?” Mary said knowingly.  
“Jesus H. Christ! Is this even possible?”  
“Well, you did lay with the man. Correct?”  
“Well... yes, but it was just one time. I mean...” she trailed off. Claire had been so upset since Jamie left she hadn’t even noticed that she missed her courses. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had them. Claire sat down in shock. Mary came over and sat next to her.  
“Claire, what are you going to do? You won’t be able to work here much longer... unless you drink that tea...”  
“No, I’m keeping it. Jamie promised me he would see me again soon.”  
“I don’t know if you can trust the word of a soldier. Most men are natural born liars.”  
“No, he was different. Jamie was the love of my life.” Claire stated firmly.  
“So what will you do? You can’t work these long shifts.”  
“I will go stay with my Uncle Lamb. He is going to help me with admittance to medical school. I can study when the baby sleeps.”  
“How will your Uncle feel about you though? An unwed mother?”  
“Uncle Lamb is not conventional. Besides, we are at war, nobody will blink an eye at a single mother. I will just say my husband died in battle.”  
“Well, I do hope the soldier returns.”  
“I do too... If I have a boy, I’m going to name him Jamie,” Claire said smiling for the first time in months.  
“And if it’s a girl?” Mary asked.  
“I will name her Jamie as well!” Claire said laughing.

7 months later, Claire gave birth to a boy she named James Quinton Thomson Beauchamp. Claire’s Uncle Lamb had been so helpful to her, that she simply had to use Quinton as the baby’s middle name.  
Claire held her tiny newborn son and admired the light fuzz of red hair on his head. She hoped he would grow up to be as tall and handsome as his father.

They lived in the countryside near Oxfordshire for the first year of little Jamie’s life. Uncle Lamb felt living in London too risky with the war. Although any mail delivered to his home would be sent to their new location. Claire never received a letter from Jamie. As the war changed course, and the allies were headed to victory, they were able to move back to London where Claire did gain acceptance to London’s Medical School for women. Claire’s childhood nanny, Mrs. Crook, moved in with the Beauchamps and took care of little Jamie while Claire attended classes. 

Claire’s busy life offered little time for socializing. When she wasn’t in school or studying, she spent her free time with her son. She loved taking him to the playground and seeing the sunlight reflect off his curly red hair. Sunday nights at Uncle Lamb’s were usually the only time Claire got a chance to converse with adults and indulge in a glass of wine or some whisky. While the dinners were small and intimate, usually consisting of Joe Abernathy and a couple other colleagues, Uncle Lamb always had prepared a sumptuous and hearty meal. It was the one night a week that Claire would relax.

It was towards the end of the war that Claire met Frank Randall. He was a historian at the University with her Uncle Lamb and soon became a regular member of ‘Sunday nights at Lamb’s’. Claire noticed on more than one occasion that Frank would stare at her when he didn’t think she was looking. Frank was always very polite and took a keen interest in her son.  
Little Jamie was 4 years old and sometimes hard to control. He would run through the house with so much energy and some nights he simply did not want to go to bed at all. He interrupted Sunday dinners quite often and loved to meet new people and would quickly become the center of attention. His curly red hair and big blue eyes made little Jamie quite the charmer.

On one Sunday night, after the guests had left, Uncle Lamb asked Claire to have one more drink with him.  
“Claire, I wanted to tell you how proud I am of your accomplishments. You’ll be graduating soon, and I’m sure you’ll have good prospects for work in a hospital or in research.” Quinton said.  
“Thank you... but, you know I couldn’t do this without you. And Jamie just loves you so much.” Claire said.  
Quinton laughed. “I adore that little man. But that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”  
“What do you mean?” Claire said.  
“Well, I’m too old to be much of a father figure to him. Have you ever thought, Claire, of finding a husband, perhaps?” Quinton asked delicately.  
“Well, yes of course. Jamie’s father. My hope is that after the war, he will come find us.” Claire said.  
“Claire, he hasn’t written any letters. It’s been years. He doesn’t know about his son. If he’s alive, what’s to say he didn’t marry another? Do you think he will show up out of the blue? After so many years?” Quinton asked her.  
“I don’t know...” Claire said softly. She felt like crying, but had cried so much over the last few years, that tears no longer formed in her eyes.  
“Well, I’m bringing this up because Frank Randall has asked my permission to court you,” he said.  
“Court me?” Claire asked stupidly.  
“Well, Yes. He’s a colleague of mine and his intentions are serious. I believe he would like to marry you. And he adores Jamie as well. Not all men would welcome another man’s child.”  
Claire sat in silence. This conversation was so unexpected.  
“Well, think on it dear. Frank is a good man, and I would like to see you have a happy marriage.”  
“I will think about it,” Claire said softly wondering if she would never see Jamie again.

Claire did go out on some dates with Frank. He was charming and kind and looked at Claire like he was already in love with her. The best days, were when Frank would take Claire and little Jamie to the park and other outings. Claire felt like she was part of a real family. She continued to check the mail. No letter ever arrived from her soldier. On the 1 year anniversary of their first date, Frank took Claire out to dinner and proposed. Claire accepted and they were married the next spring at the end of April in 1946. While Mrs. Crook and Uncle Lamb cared for little Jamie, Frank took Claire to the Highlands of Scotland for their Honeymoon. When they returned, Frank and Claire had an appointment in family court so Frank could officially adopt Jamie. They would be a real family.

It was during this honeymoon trip that Claire disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things that happen in 18th century could possibly change Claire’s entire life in the 20th century.
> 
> So let’s just say, if Claire does go back to her own time in the 20th century... she will be in for some surprises! 
> 
> Claire and Jamie both have no idea they have a son....


	38. The Devil’s Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Book 2 - Claire spends time at Helwater and gets to know the Dunsany sisters and her great grandmother Margarete

Claire awoke with a start that evening to find herself undressed and warm in a large bed under several blankets in elegant bedroom. She was having a bad dream. Lost. Falling. Her mind was muddled and it took her a few moments to remember exactly where she was; Helwater. A servant entered the room with a cup of hot herb tea which had a strong measure of whisky and some fresh bannocks. The chambermaid put the tray next the bed and then went to the hearth to tend to the small fire that warmed the room before exiting. Ten minutes later Margarete entered the room and sat by the bed.

Claire’s eyes widened upon seeing her Great Grandmother once more. She was keenly aware of Margarete’s physical presence. The woman exuded a power that seemed to surround and subtly drift off of her like a fine cologne. Claire sat up in the bed. “Where is Master Raymond?” she asked.  
“He is resting in his own room. Claire, ye must relax. I ken this must be a shock, but you need to rest in your condition,” Margarete said.  
“How do you know about my condition?” Claire asked. She was only two and a half months pregnant and not showing yet.  
Margarete gently touched her face for a moment. “I ken ye need some more rest for the bairn. You are worn out.”  
Claire looked at her in disbelief. “You can sense that from touching my face?” Was it possible this woman had the same diagnostic sense that she possessed?  
“Aye, I can tell. I ken ye have many questions, but we shall leave the conversation for the morning. For now, please drink the tea and rest.” Margarete said kindly as she handed Claire the cup.  
Claire drank the tea and Margarete sat by her side while she fell asleep once more.

In the morning, several servants brought in a bath for Claire and she allowed the maids to undress her and bathe her, and then oversee to her dressing. She was provided a new shift, a peacock blue silk dress–the petticoat covered in silver embroidery, stocking and shoes. After she was laced into the blue dress and sitting before her dressing mirror while one of the maids dressed her hair, Claire touched the teardrop shaped emerald that hung from her neck. The necklace that once belonged to her mother. Margarete was wearing an identical necklace and she wondered if there was something about the jewels that connected them.

Claire was the last person to arrive to the dining hall for the morning meal. Margarete sitting with Master Raymond and two young women that looked to be about 16 to 20 years old.  
“My dear Claire! How lovely you look this morn! Come sit and break your fast. Ye must be famished after your travels,” Margarete said kindly motioning Claire to sit by her. Claire took a seat and smiled at the others sitting around the table.  
“Claire, I would like to introduce my two step-daughters. This is Lady Geneva and Lady Isobel.” Margaret said. “My husband, Lord Dunsany, is away on business in Edinburgh, but will return in fortnight.”  
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Claire said politely with a small smile at the two young women.  
“I’m pleased to meet ye, Claire,” Isobel replied. ”Why did I no’ ken ye had another daughter?” she asked Margarete with a baffled look on her face. Isobel was a petit blonde with large blue innocent eyes and a kind smile. She appeared to be the younger of the two sisters, as she lacked the sophistication of Genenva. She seemed educated but not yet worldly and perhaps a bit naive.  
“Och, no? I’m quite certain I’ve mentioned my dearest Claire before. I must admit I was expecting Julia. But I’m just as pleased that Claire has come to visit.” Margarete answered.  
“Nay, I’ve no’ heard the name Claire before.” Geneva interjected in a bored tone. She was very beautiful and superbly dressed in a fine riding habit. Her features were arresting, her brilliant blue eyes and pale skin were matched by the shining blackness of her abundant hair. She gave off the impression that she was a girl used to having her own way if not a bit spoilt. She got up and dismissed herself from the table to go to the stables. She had little interest in conversing with a new ‘stepsister’.

“Claire, how does Julia fare? She is well, I hope?” Margarete asked cautiously after Geneva left the room.  
Claire just stared back at her. _Oh god, she doesn’t know. Of course she wouldn’t know. How could she? How can I possibly tell her that Julia died a year after I was born?_ Claire thought to herself. For Claire, her mother had been dead for 26 years. But now, it was the same year Julia traveled to the 20th century using the magic at Craig na Duhn. Claire knew it was probably a year, if not months, since Margarete last saw Julia.  
As if reading her mind, Margarete pressed her her lips together and turned her head to the side as her eyes welled up and she choked back tears. She stood and excused herself before quickly leaving the dining room. In the distance, Claire could hear her sobbing echo through halls. She looked at Master Raymond with concern. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I thought she would have known. Should I go and try to talk with her?”  
“No, Madonna. Let her grieve. She’ll talk with you when she is ready. In the meantime, try to eat and keep up your strength.” He said sympathetically.  
“My condolences to ye, Claire,” Isobel said with sincerity.  
“Thank you, Lady Isobel,” Claire replied.  
“Just Isobel, please. We are family now.” 

After breaking their fast, Isobel gave Claire a partial tour of the expansive Helwater estate. The beautiful stone building was set in a valley; behind the park of more than a hundred acres, including woods, formal gardens, fountain walks, and land stretched out as far as the eye could see. There were two hundred rooms in the Manor House and one hundred and fifty indoor servants, excluding gardeners, grooms, messengers, woodsmen, and gamekeepers. There was a banqueting hall, a library containing over a thousand books, and a magnificent private chapel. The woods were full of game, and Lord Dunsany was a great hunter.  
As Claire walked beside Isobel along the upper corridor that was really a fine gallery hung with portraits; generations of Dunsanys looked down at her, some in hunting dress with their dogs beside them, others in armour mounted upon rearing horses, others with their wives and children in stiff groups.  
At 17 years of age, Isobel was the youngest member of the Dunsanys. She told Claire a good bit of history about her ancestors and when she stopped to gaze at one of the prettiest women of the pictures in the gallery; Claire learned that her own mother, immortalized in the portrait, had died of a fever when she was just 5 years old.  
“I scarcely remember my father as a child. After our mother passed, Geneva and I were raised by our servants. It was not until he married your mother many years later that Father began to live again.” She explained. “Why have we never met before? I remember your sister, Julia.”  
Claire felt nervous. She did not know how to answer. “Well, I was already married when my mother married your father... what was it... 5 years ago?”  
“ ’Twas 8 years ago.”  
“Yes, well, I was married when I was just 18 years old. My husband’s family lives very far from Perth.” Claire explained.  
“Aye. Geneva was marrit at 18 years of age as well.” Isobel replied.  
“She’s married?” Claire asked in confusion. Where was her husband?  
“Aye. Now at 22 years she is a widow; her husband, the Baron de Vitale, was already an old man when she marrit him. When he died he left everything in his possession to the her. Geneva is verra rich. She came back to Helwater when she got bored with living in the country on her husband’s estates.”  
“Oh, how very sad to be a widow so young.” Claire said empathetically.  
“Nay, Geneva does as she pleases now. She didna care for her husband and calls him ‘the old man’,” Isobel said dismissively.

Claire spent the afternoon in solitude in the library. She sat at a desk pondering as she prepared to write a letter to Jamie. She took stock of her aloneness, her sadness, then she moved on to thinking about him. Claire had never loved a man like she loved Jamie. She never felt this way about Frank. _Jamie, come find me. Come find me soon._ The longer she sat in the at the desk, the more she realized that she could not endure this longing for Jamie, which was reaching the point of anguish. She began to write. She hoped when Jamie received her letter, he would come for her.

Margarete did not attend supper that evening. It was a quiet, if not awkward affair in which Claire and Master Raymond seemed to be of the same mind; silently devoting themselves to the sumptuous food and wine.  
Later that evening, when Claire was alone in her room preparing for bed, Margarete knocked on her door.  
“Claire, I have some questions for ye... if you are not too tired, would ye mind if we talk?” she asked. Although her eyes were red and puffy from grieving, her voice was calm and serene.  
“No, I’m not too tired. I have some questions for you as well.”  
“I ken ye must.” Margarete replied closing the door. “Let us sit by the fire.”  
They both took seats before the hearth and looked at each other not knowing where to begin.  
“Julia... how?” Margarete asked first.  
“I don’t know. She died with my father when I was a baby. They were in an accident on a road near Inverness, and yet, the authorities could find no reason for the accident to occur. They were found dead on the side of the road.” Claire replied.  
“Och, Claire! Ye ken that man was no’ your father.” Margarete said.  
“Yes, I did know that.” Claire replied.  
“What year did she die?”  
“I was born in the year 1920, so I suppose the accident was 1921? It may have been early in 1922. I always meant to look up the official report, but I lived so far away in England. I never got the chance.”  
Margarete looked at her silently. Contemplating. What she said next noticeably discomfited Claire. “Why on earth are ye wearing that cursed ring?”  
“I... it’s my wedding ring. I was married and on a honeymoon in Scotland. I didn’t know it was cursed and now I cannot take it off my finger! I went into the circle of stones at Craig na Duhn and ended up here... in this year in time.” Claire replied.  
“So ye did. Tell me more... what was the first thing ye saw when you arrived at this place in time?” Margarete asked.  
“I saw him! _‘Le monstre’_ as Master Raymond calls him.” Claire answered. She felt herself starting to shake in fear.  
“Calm down, dear. Ye are safe. I simply need to ken what happened, then I can help ye,” Margarete reassured her.  
“Who is Espy Thomson? Master Raymond knows a lot from her. He told me about Elizabeth Thomson and how ‘le monstre’ was once human.” Claire asked.  
“Aye. I dinnae ken Espy Thomson. That is why I will travel to France with ye. I’m quite curious myself.” Margarete answered.  
Claire smiled. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Although, is it not strange to tell people you are my mother?” Claire asked.  
Margarete gave a small laugh. “Aye, but I am no’ of great grandmother age. We also do no’ age the same as others. Julia called me mother, and ye may as well.”  
“Are we witches?” Claire asked.  
“Och, no! A witch is someone that manipulates the power of an evil spirit, or the devil himself. The Thomsons have been battling evil spirits for generations.” She replied.  
“Then tell me.. what are we?”  
“We have inherited powers to manipulate or sometimes just to see unseen forces. That is my definition. It will suffice to just call me a seer as well.” Margarete sighed. “These are secret things that set us apart. Dinna expect other people to believe, though in your case they’ve seen. Master Raymond told me about your betrothed. He now has the sight?”  
Claire nodded slowly.  
“In my case, no one must ever see or ken, for it is too dangerous. I sense when people are lying. It’s no’ that I can read minds, it’s more subtle. It’s as if people are talking out loud in black-and-white words, and I’m seeing what they say in colored paintings. I ken their thoughts some times, little bits of information.” Margarete said.  
“So you did not read my mind when you asked me about Julia?” Claire asked.  
“I didnae have to. The look on your face gave me the truth. I have a stronger sight than ye. I have visions. I can touch objects and see from who and whence it came. Everything I touch tells me a story. At times, I can also see into parts of the future by touching an object or a person.” Margarete replied.  
“Jamie acquired the site. Anything he touches with his hands tells him a story as well. He hates it. He wears gloves to block the visions,” Claire said with a frown.  
“He doesna ken how to wield it. He is someone I can help. You gave him a part of yourself when ye brought him back to life, Claire.”  
“I did no such thing. I resuscitated him back to life. I went to medical school. I did not use any _powers_ on him.” Claire replied agitated.  
“Nay, you use your power and ye dinna ken it,” Margarete replied. “What did ye think of when ye were saving his life?”  
“When Jamie’s heart stopped beating and I breathed into his mouth, I envisioned his lungs, heart, and the air moving through his lungs. It’s the same when I operate as a doctor. I envision what I’m doing. I hold in my mind a multidimensional image of the effects of my actions. It helps me focus.” Claire explained.  
“And what did you think of when ye killed a man?” Margarete asked.  
Claire’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Margarete in disbelief.  
“You have killed. In anger and rage, ye have taken life. You have done it willfully. That is how strong ye are, Claire.” Margarete stated matter of factly.  
“I didn’t. You can’t kill people simply by wishing them dead.” Claire snapped.  
“Then dinnae be afraid to tell me what ye were thinking.” Margarete replied.  
“When I killed the murderous doctor, I imagined him punished and spitting blood. I didn’t have the knowledge then to imagine it any more perfectly than that, but it was the same process, the same thing. Then I felt this power flow out of me.” Claire answered.  
Margarete smiled at Claire and nodded in complete understanding.

They sat quiet for a time reflecting. When Margarete spoke again, she chose her words carefully. “That creature has been attached to the Thomson clan for generations. It can kill people. But then, so can you, Claire. In fact, ye may well be the first I’ve known to be able to kill entirely on your own, without that creature’s aid.” she said.  
“But what is that creature? An evil spirit?” Claire asked.  
“Aye. Have you ever seen a person that ye ken shouldna be there?” she asked slowly.  
Claire gave a start. At first she thought she misunderstood, then she thought of _the man._ She nodded.  
“What did ye see? How old were ye?” Margarete asked with a sad, resigned look on her face.  
“When I turned 16 years old, my Uncle Lamb gave me this emerald necklace that belonged to my mother. That night was the first time I saw a man with dark hair and black eyes in my bedroom. He wasn’t a human being. He was some sort of hallucination.” Claire explained.  
“So he did come to ye,” Margarete said with a soft sigh, “and he laid his hands on ye?”  
“I don’t know,” Claire whispered.  
“It was that creature. We also simply call him _‘the man’,”_ she said. “In spirit form, he always appears as a dark haired man although he may change his appearance. It was _‘the man’_ who drove my daughter Antha mad, and probably killed your mother. I wonder why he didnae take ye then. Why ye came back through time in the stone circle with the aid of his curse. He is responsible for that. It’s his curse on the ring. We must find out why...” Margarete explained.  
“I’m hostile to it,” Claire said. “I don’t like it. And I think it knows. I used to fight it... I used to... hurt myself. If he didn’t leave me alone, I would hurt myself until he left. I was put into a psychiatric hospital when I was 17 years old.”  
“You always kent that _the man_ was no’ … what he appeared to be, didn’t ye?” Margarete asked.  
Claire nodded slowly.  
“He lies and he destroys, and he will destroy you and your daughter if he can, for his ends, for his ends are what matter.” Margarete continued.  
“And what are they?”  
“To be alive again, as we are alive, Claire. To come through and break his own curse.”  
“Why does he think I would help him?” Claire asked incredulously.  
“Because he believes that ye are his now,” Margarete said. “His to love and his to rule with promises of servitude.”  
Claire felt the confusion again, and a dull ache in her head.  
“He will tell ye it’s the other way around,” Margarete warned. “When he speaks into your ear so that no one can hear, he will say he is your slave, that he’s passed to ye from Julia. But it’s a lie, my dear, a vicious lie. He’ll drive ye mad if ye refuse to do his will. That is what he’s done to many.” She stopped, her brows tightening, her eyes drifting off to stare into the fire.  
“What happened to your daughter, Antha?” Claire asked nervously. She was afraid of upsetting Margarete, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to know.  
“My Antha... she was no’ strong like we are Claire. She was a very sweet, and shy girl. He tricked her into believing he was good and her friend when she was a verra young lass. It took a long time to drive that creature away. My sister Isla and I spent many years teaching Antha how to protect herself. But Antha was also a romantic. She fell in love and got married too young. It was when she was with bairn that the creature returned. He killed her husband and possessed his body. When she saw her husband dying and that she couldnae save him, that it was beyond her power …” Margarete sighed as she broke off and her eyes welled with tears.  
“You don’t need to tell me anymore,” Claire said with concern.  
“Nay, ye must ken the truth.” Margarete took a deep breath and continued, “Antha killed her husband as the spirit possessed his dead body... she mutilated him so the creature could no’ live in the dead flesh shell of her husband. She ran outside and grabbed an axe and severed his head.”  
Claire put her hand over her mouth in horror.  
“Antha returned to us after she buried her husband in secret. We protected Antha and she gave birth to Julia seven months later. I think the spirit was still taunting Antha throughout her pregnancy, because one night I heard her talking to her dead husband while alone in her room. _The man_ hid from Isla and myself while slowly driving Antha mad. She began talking to the townsfolk and claimed that her husband was murdered. She told anyone who would listen that the devil wanted to kill her and steal her bairn. Rumors circulated through the town, and I believe it was my support of the church that kept us safe from suspicion. I convinced people that Antha was ill, and no’ in her right mind. It was after Julia was born that I saw _the man_ again. He appeared as Antha’s husband and was smiling at Antha and the bairn, and she was smiling back. My sister, Isla, took the bairn and went away. We had to protect Julia. I locked Antha in her room with protection spells. I hoped after a time, she would regain her senses, but she only got worse. The creature would appear outside her windows in the form of her husband. By that time, Antha believed her husband was no’ deid, and would have done anything the creature commanded. I would no’ let her out of the house or even out of her room. I told her I wouldna allow her to become the Devil’s Bride. The next night, she tried to climb out her window to go to him and fell to her death.” Margarete stopped again and stared at the fire while wiping a few tears that slid down her cheeks.

Claire sat in silence to give Margarete a moment to breathe. “Thank you for telling me. I’m so sorry.” she finally said.  
“Aye, now I have lost Julia. I took her when she was just a lassie into the stone circle and the future to protect her, but it was for naught.” Margarete looked at Claire. “I saw him when I was 5 years old, so clear and strong that he could slip his warm hand in mine, he could lift me in the air, yes, lift my body. I told him to go back to the hell from which he came. My grandmother taught me to use my power to fight him. I knew what lay ahead, even then. I learned the same spells and secrets he used. I learned to call up the very lowly spirits whom I could command. I learned to fight him, with spirits bound to me, whom I could then dismiss with the snap of my fingers. In sum, I used his weapons against him.”  
“Can you touch the spirit? Or the being?” Claire asked.  
“Well, there are times when I ken that is entirely possible … At least ye could touch something. But of course, whether or no’ the being would allow himself to be touched is quite another story, as you’ll soon see.” Margarete replied.  
“Why us?” Claire demanded. “Why are we the ones this spirit wants to control? Did you ever speak to him? Did you ever ask who he was and what he really wanted?”  
Margarete gave a long sigh. “Do ye think he would have told the truth? He willna tell ye the truth, mark my words. You feed him when ye question him. Ye give him oil as if he were the flame in that lamp.” Margarete stared at Claire. “I ken what he wants. He wants to break his curse. He wants to be human again. Immortal in the flesh. For that he must have our blood.”  
“He wants my blood?” Claire asked in confusion.  
“Aye. He believes he can breed with our bloodline. In doing so, he can possess the womb just the same as he can possess dead flesh. Do ye want to be the bride as well as the mother to that creature?” Margarete asked in disgust.  
Claire became suddenly frightened. “He can’t hurt my baby, can he?”  
“Nay, it is with his own seed while in possession of a body that he would plant himself in your womb. He is now in possession of the Captain of His Majesty’s Ninth Dragoons. I ken from Master Raymond that ye were captured by his Dragoons... and he captured Jamie as well. He is very dangerous Claire. It is why we shall leave for France in a sennight. We are no’ safe in Scotland.” Margarete said looking at her with fatigue.  
Claire felt an unusual shiver go up her spine. “You’re reading my mind, you’ve been doing it all along.”  
“Och, aye lass! As best as I can. I wish I could read it better. Dinna fash, Claire. Your powers are strong, very strong, and always have been.” She paused, considering Claire again, her face unreadable for a moment, perhaps devoid of any specific judgment. “Imprecise, aye, and inconsistent, of course, and uncontrolled perhaps—but strong.”  
“How do you know that?” Claire asked with uncertainty.  
“But I do, ye see, I can feel your strength, because I too am strong, stronger than Antha or Julia. And that is how I have prevented him from hurting me. That is how I have put some hundred years between him and Julia when she was just a lass.”  
Claire looked at Margarete and wondered if she could use her powers to kill as well. She seemed to understand her strength.  
“Aye, kill,” sighed Margarete. “I have done that. To protect the living from that which is no’ living, and would possess them if he could.”  
Claire was speechless. She just looked at her great grandmother in amazement. Suddenly, the candles in the room went out, then a moment later they relit themselves.  
“Make the candles go out. Light them again. I want to see ye do it, Claire.” Margarete said casually.  
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” she asked with a look of bewilderment.  
“Just try, Claire. You ken how to do it,” Margarete persisted.  
Claire thought of the candles and in her mind she snuffed them out pushing that energy flow she used so many times on her patients to heal them. The candles in the room went out. Then they were relit.  
“Have I taught you something?” Margarete asked.  
“I... I think you have,” Claire said in awe.  
“Verra good. I will leave ye to rest now. We leave for Edinburgh in 7 days and then sail for France.”  
“Alright then. Thank you for our talk. I’m really happy we will go to France together,” Claire said.  
“I’m verra pleased as well. We have a lot more to discuss and I willna miss the birth of my great, great granddaughter,” Margarete said with a smile.  
Claire smiled back as tears filled her eyes.  
“Och, Claire! Dinna fash... The bairn is healthy and strong.”  
“No... it’s not that. May I ask you to do something very important for me?”  
“Aye, my dear. Anything ye need.”  
Claire got up and took the letter she wrote to Jamie and gave it to Margarete. “Would you see that this gets delivered to Jamie at Castle Leoch? I left without so much as a goodbye,” she said wiping the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.  
“Of course, _Iar-bhan-ogha._ Dinna fash. I will send word to Jamie. Remember that you and the bairn are safe now. Dinna continue to greet... Ye will see Jamie again.” Margarete assured her before kissing her forehead and bidding her goodnight.  
Claire slipped into the bed and fell asleep almost instantly from sheer exhaustion. In her dreams she saw a young girl playing in the field catching flowers that were falling from the sky.

Margarete stepped into the hallway and began walking toward her bedchamber contemplating the letter Claire had written to Jamie. By just touching it, she knew every word that was written. She did not need to read it. She entered her bedroom and looked at the letter in her hand. In an instant, the parchment was on fire and she placed the burning letter in a metal bowl and watched it turn to ash. Claire is safe now. She would keep her safe. Claire reminded her of Antha—a romantic. Her deep love for Jamie was now also her weakness. She would not allow Claire to suffer the same fate as Antha. The creature would use Jamie’s body and steal his soul to bring Claire under his thrall. The only choice was to leave Jamie behind. It was a stroke of luck that Claire couldnae read her thoughts. They were not just traveling to France—they were going to disappear. She failed to fully protect Antha and Julia, but she would not fail Claire or her bairn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** Note for those already reading. Now that I’m in the second part, I saw made a mistake before that I fixed in the previous chapters. Claire actually travels back to May 1744 (on Beltane). Keep that in mind as they are now approaching the year 1745, when the second Jacobite uprising occurs. Jamie and Claire’s “wedding” was supposed to take place in July 1744, which is why so many people were talking about the prince at their engagement party.


	39. Monster’s Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Jack Randall comes up with a new plan to find Claire and Jamie

Captain Jonathan Randall stood within the circle of stones at Craig na Duhn absorbing energy contained within each of the stones. Given his state of putrefaction, replenishing his strength was a necessity and slowly the rot in his body began to recede. It was an improvement. The Orkney Islands were the only place where his power remained constant and true. Another curse imposed on him centuries ago by his late wife, Elizabeth Thomson. She would have him remain in purgatory on the Isles for all time; bodiless, faceless, without a voice and unable to make use of his magic or participate in the lives of the living. This was Elizabeth’s punishment for his ruthless quest for immortality. A curse that she bestowed upon him just moments before he killed her. A curse which killed him as well—his human body at least. His humanity had already died years ago. In the eyes of his clan, Cain Thomson was a monster.

Although as a young man Cain was known to locals as a kind-hearted, charitable, and generous tutor of the magical arts, he was in fact, a miserable, greedy bastard with a hunger for power. He married Elizabeth when they were both very young. At that time, she was the most powerful healer and teacher on all of the Isles. As the only daughter to the Laird, she was poised to become the next clan chieftain. The newly married couple took residence in the Laird’s castle so Elizabeth could continue her duties to her father and clan.

Rather than devoting himself to the studies of the arcane mysteries of the universe for knowledge, he primarily had spent his marital life attempting to manipulate any magic he could into granting him immortality. His obsession with immortality didn’t occur instantaneously. Instead, it grew slowly—like a fungus invading the dark corners of his mind, contaminating his every thought. He was infected with an incurable disease—obsession. The subject of his neurosis was all he could focus on. He spent every waking moment fixated on it. He performed magical experiments on countless unwilling subjects which usually resulted in their untimely deaths. Yes, he had killed... but it was in the name of a greater cause. A noble cause. Immortality.

When his wife, Elizabeth, discovered his secret experiments, the dead body parts in jars, the human bones he collected, she reeled in horror.  
“Horrible things in those jars.… and I, your wife, am a renowned healer! Soon, I will be the chief of this clan! I cannae abide the work of the devil!” Elizabeth spat out with contempt.  
“With the same powerful gift that ye have now, to lay hands on the ill and heal their bodies, I have used to circumvent death. Dinna tell me ye doona fear death!” He snapped back coldly.  
Elizabeth lifted the lamp high, she accidentally found the secret narrow storage chamber when following her husband late one evening. After several years of marriage, she thought perhaps he may have taken a mistress. As a future clan leader, giving birth to an heir was of the highest importance. Now, there were rumors floating around the clan for the reason why they did no’ have a child yet. She needed to ken what kept her husband from their marriage bed. This was much worse than her husband taking a lover. This was evil. The chamber was filled with jars and bottles on makeshift shelves and the jars and bottles were filled with blackish, murky fluid. Specimens in these containers. Rotting, putrid things. The stench of alcohol and other chemicals, and most of all of putrefying flesh. Unbearable to think of these glass containers broken open and the horrid smell of their exposed contents.  
“Bring your lamp closer. I want ye to have a look now, my sweeting.” he said with excitement.  
“I dinna want to see these things now …or ever!” she said forcibly with disgust. Yet even as Elizabeth spoke she was peering at the jars, looking at the largest of them in which the liquid was still clear enough to see the soft, vaguely round thing floating there, half shrouded in shadow. But that was impossible what she saw there. That looked just like a human head. She drew back as if she’d been burnt.  
“Oh? You’re a healer, are ye no’?” he asked. “Have ye no’ cut open the dead of all ages?”  
And that’s what she did with her gift. She healed. She didna kill. Her husband filled these jars with horrors. “I’m a healer. I cut to preserve and lengthen life...“ she said with a trembling voice.  
“I can preserve life as well. There is still much to learn. I have brought life to dead flesh. I ken how to bring life to the dead for a time. You’ll see when I pour out the contents. And mind me, ye may do it yourself if ye need a closer look.” he replied as he began opening a jar.  
“Why do ye do this to me, Cain?” she cried. “They’re rotted, deteriorated; they’re no good for any purpose if they ever were. I must get out of here!” Yet she looked back at the jar, overcome with horror. Her left hand went to her mouth as if it could somehow protect her, and gazing at the clouded fluid she saw again the dark hole of a mouth where the lips were slowly deteriorating and the white teeth shone bright. She saw the gleaming jelly of the eyes. But what was in the jar beside it? There were things moving in the fluid, worms moving. Elizabeth screamed. “You’re a murderer! A monster!” she screamed as she ran out of the secret chambers.

Cain was soon arrested by the castle guards and thrown into the dungeons to await his punishment. His jars of specimens were enough evidence for his clan to condemn him to death. He would be hanged as a murderer. His sentence was never carried out though, as Cain easily escaped the dungeons with the use of his magic... Elizabeth’s magic that he now possessed. It was far too easy for him to snap his guard’s neck, then bring life back to the corpse temporarily to open his prison cell and escort him out of the dungeons. Cain fled the Isles and disappeared into the Highlands. His time in exile did not lessen his obsession, however. He wanted to have Elizabeth at his mercy… fulfilling his every desire and his destiny... immortal life. So, Cain continued planning. Seeking the perfect crack in Elizabeth’s life to slip through undetected. Once he had it… the only thing left to do was wait for the perfect moment to strike. He did not have to wait long.

Elizabeth walked alone through her gardens collecting herbs when she heard a noise and felt the searing pain of a blade run through her backside. She turned to see the handsome face of her husband. She looked into his coal dark eyes. Dark like his black soul. “I ken ye would come back to punish me for balking your evil schemes.” she choked out as blood trickled out of her mouth.  
Cain pushed the dirk deeper. Was that a grin on her face? Cain felt a chill as the winds picked up outside and noticed Elizabeth was whispering. Cain’s hands went immediately around her throat.  
“No, you punish me for coming back, ye punish me for merely wanting to ken our power, ye punish me because I violated your morals!” he growled as his hands clamped down forcefully around her neck. His hands began to burn but he did not let go until he felt her neck snap and then dropped her lifeless body which fell to the ground. Cain looked around. The wind continued to whip through the trees, through his dark hair, but his whole body began to feel heated. It was too late. He looked down at his sweltering hands and the flesh bubbled as if he held them over a fire. The heat burned through his body and he fell to the ground screaming in pain.  
“Wiiiiiiitch!” He cried out as his body was slowly blistering. Elizabeth was burning him alive even though there was no fire. Cain had not anticipated the powers of her site. She kent he would come and she had prepared. “Witch!” He spit out as he suffocated just before he died. As he continued to burn, Cain watched from his new prison as his body was reduced to bones and ash. He was now a bodiless spirit trapped on the Isles that nobody could see or hear. This was a prison he would never escape... For many years he roamed alone until one day a little girl named Collette Thomson saw him and talked to him.

It was inevitable, given the fervor of his obsession, that he found a way to free himself from his purgatory. He discovered that the close proximity to a Thomson witch or the stones gave his spirit the freedom to roam. And with that freedom, he became an entirely new being. He was no longer the man named Cain. He was a being that could manipulate the dead. He could now communicate with the living and use spells to trick and manipulate them. He shifted his focus onto Elizabeth’s descendants and using their magic to continue his quest for immortal life. Soon, he would be a new man... an immortal man. _Claire._ Randall wondered what she was doing. Who she might be thinking about. And where she was.

After the stones had restored him, Randall called out for the two loyal men that accompanied him to the stones. The young Dragoons dismounted and tethered their horses and soon appeared before him. Randall motioned the youngest of the two to step forward.  
“Drustan, I have a very important mission for you... for both of you,” he said loudly and looked at the other Dragoon.  
“Yes, Captain,” Drustan said eagerly.  
Randall leaned forward and began whispering in his ear. When he was done, Drustan stepped back swaying slightly and unsteady on his feet. Drustan then calmly untied his trews and pulled them down past his knees. He then turned around and got on the ground on all fours with his bare ass facing Captain Randall.

Lucas, stood nonplussed as he watched his Captain spear his fellow officer in the ass. Captain Randall thrusted violently as Drustan remained on all fours and groaned. By the looks of Drustan’s erection, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Lucas wondered if he could quietly walk away and get to his horse unnoticed. Captain Randall looked up at him and grinned.  
“Don’t look so forlorn... everyone gets a turn,” Captain Randall blithely stated.  
It sounded more to Lucas like a veiled threat. Lucas slowly stepped away.  
“One more step and I’ll see you hanged by morning,” Randall warned.  
Lucas froze. He stood silently as Randall continued to fuck his fellow soldier.  
As Drustan moaned louder, Randall lifted the boy’s chest up and brought him to his knees so his back was flushed against him. Randall continued pumping into the boy as his arm went around his neck.  
Lucas watched with concern as Drustan’s face became beet red while gasping for air. Suddenly, Druston cried out as he climaxed while Randall’s arm was still around his neck. White ribbons of his seed fell to the grass while Randall gave his neck a twist. Randall then moaned as he climaxed in the boy still holding him tightly, then allowing the boy’s body to simply fall face down into the grass. 

Lucas stared at Drustan’s limp body on the ground with alarm. He did not appear to be breathing. Lucas stepped toward him but was blocked by Captain Randall who now stood before him.  
“C..C..Captain?” Lucas said nervously.  
Randall just smiled and whispered to him. The fear Lucas felt suddenly lifted and he felt blissfully content or maybe even drunk. Yes, drunk on the finest of wines. And before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Lucas smiled.  
“On your knees, Soldier,” she said.  
Lucas happily obliged. He felt his desire growing and quickly unlaced his trews and removed his stiff cock.  
“Take me in your mouth,” the beauty whispered.  
Lucas immediately began licking and stroking the large cock before him. He opened his mouth wide and drew it in until it touched the back of his throat. He began to fervently suck on the cock while massaging his tongue along the length as he furiously jerked his own stiff cock. Lucas groaned loudly as he climaxed while hands drew his head in closer to the beautiful creature before him.  
Randall grabbed Lucas’s head and pushed his cock further down his throat. He felt his member enlarge even more as the young soldier’s cheeks hallowed out from his forceful sucking. The kid was good. With a fierce groan, Randall pushed his length down the boy’s throat while releasing his seed and simultaneously cutting off the boy’s airway. The boy choked on his seed as he suffocated him with his cock. When he was sure the boy was dead, Randall released his grip on the boy and allowed his limp body to fall to the grass.

Satisfied, Randall pulled up his trews and made himself decent again. While he may have had some unfortunate luck with the living, he knew for certain he could hold the dead under his sway. Feeling the power within the stones flow through his being, he commanded the boys to rise. Slowly, the boys obeyed their Captain.  
Randall looked into the two sets of black eyes before him and continued with his orders. “As I was saying, I have an important mission for you both... A matter of the upmost urgency. I need you to find 2 fugitives and bring them to me. Claire Beauchamp and Jamie MacKenzie...” Randall began.

Randall left Craig na Duhn after giving full instructions to his men. They both took off for Edinburgh with orders to stop and search every town along the way. With his enchantment, they should survive long enough to complete their mission before their bodies became rotted and useless. If not, he would create more. Wentworth Prison provided a steady supply of fresh corpses. Randall mounted his horse and set off to return to Wentworth. He would make another draft for the indictment of Jamie MacKenzie. If Sir Fletcher refuses him again, he would simply kill Sir Fletcher. He will kill him and anyone else that stands in his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be about what happened to Jamie- promise...
> 
> As far as the demon goes, if you’re wondering if he has sex with everyone he possesses or holds under his thrall, the answer is yes! getting close to a person - using sex - is just a tool for the demon, and a way to get a person to submit... although he did try to possess Jamie with just a kiss at Wentworth... although this idea comes from the books because BJR rapes Jamie and Fergus, and he’s like crazy sadist rapist, but there was never any explanation why he was that way.... so this is my version of why BJR is sadist/rapist, he’s literally possessed by a demon...


	40. We Can Save Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margarete’s premonition of Captain Randall’s men prompts her to hasten their voyage to France.

Margarete awoke with a start just before dawn. Her face contorted as she carefully mulled over the details of the vision in her dream. She learned long ago that her dreams were no’ just dreams... they were visions. She was gifted with the site which allowed her glimpses into the future. Dragoons. She heard the wind outside and felt a subtle a change in the air. They would be here soon. _The man_ was coming. She rose quickly from her bed and alerted the servants to begin packing the coach at once. They would have to leave this very morning.

Claire was awakened by several servants bustling about in her bedchamber just as the rays of early sunlight came through the windows.  
“G’morning Mistress.” A young servant girl said as she placed a warm mug of tea next to her bed. “I’ll be helping ye dress for your journey. Lady Margarete has instructed me to send ye to the dining hall posthaste.”  
Two servants dressed Claire with alacrity and then sent her straight away to the dining hall to break her fast. Claire looked upon Margarete and Master Raymond with confusion. It was far too early for the other members of the household to be dining and they sat alone with a simple fare of sliced apples, cheese and bannocks.  
“Good morning,” Claire said as she took a seat at the table. “I see the servants are packing for our voyage to France. We are leaving for Edinburgh this morning?”  
“Good morrow, lass” Margarete said with a smile. “I ken ye need more rest but, aye, we must begin our journey. I booked passage for us on _The Colchester,_ a merchant ship sailing to France.”  
“I see... what about my letter to Jamie?” Claire asked.  
“Dinna fash, Claire. Your letter has already been sent on a mail coach to the Highlands. My apologies for the abrupt change in our plans. I had hoped to bide our time here until my husband returned, but we must see to it that we are aboard _The Colchester_ when it sets sail.” Margarete explained.  
Claire looked at Master Raymond who nodded in approval. She sighed and tried to mask her disappointment as she slowly began to nibble on a freshly baked bannock. Now she knew for sure that there was no hope that Jamie would find her in Scotland.

An hour later, Claire stood on the front steps of the Manor with their coach ready and waiting to take them to Edinburgh. She said farewell to the Dunsany sisters and the staff after Margarete affectionately hugged both her stepdaughters. Margarete’s eyes were misty as she bid her two white wolves goodbye. She whispered to each of them them just before they broke into a run towards the forest.  
“You’ve two pet wolves?” Claire asked.  
“Aye, that is Neige’s brother, Fantôme.” she answered. “They are no’ just wolves, they are friends.”  
Claire looked at Geneva and thought she saw her smile. _Apparently, they aren’t everyone’s friends,_ she thought to herself.  
Claire stepped aboard the coach which was a far cry from the meager horse and cart she had grown accustomed to traveling in with Master Raymond. Claire sat on the opulent velvet cushioned seating inside the cab and found it very comfortable indeed. The doors on both sides of the coach had large glass paned windows draped with matching velvet curtains. Claire was looking forward to seeing much of the Scottish countryside. Upon the roof, sat two of Margarete’s guards, both armed with pistols, as well as a heap of luggage, which was secured by ropes and chains. In the front, sat the coachman who would steer the four horses and another armed guard for their protection. Master Raymond sat next to Claire while Margarete and her maid, Agatha, sat across from them. They left Helwater as the sun continued to rise and Claire looked out the window with her eyes glistening and a lump in her throat. _Goodbye Scotland._  
“Wi’ some luck, we shall arrive in Endiburgh in just 3 days,” Margarete stated enthusiastically.  
“Oui, Mademoiselle. This is a very elegant and modern vehicle.” Master Raymond agreed.  
Margaret smiled. “Lord Dunsany assured me he spared no expense. This coach was built for no’ just luxury, but speed as well.”  
“I think I shall find this trip much more pleasant than traveling in that cart.” Claire laughed.  
Margarete shot Master Raymond a frowned look. “I still dinna ken why ye insisted ye must travel in a servant’s cart,” Margarete said with obvious displeasure.  
“Mademoiselle, I could not travel throughout the Highlands as a poor merchant in a carriage such as this. It would attract not only attention, but thieves as well.” he explained.  
“Aye,” Margarete acquiesced. “Perhaps, ye could share more stories about your search for Claire throughout the Highlands. We’ve no’ had much time for discussion.” Margarete knew that the French had a strong sense of cultural superiority. The views of the French travellers therefore have special significance; she listened attentively to Master Raymond’s observations of the Scottish countryside.

Master Raymond entertained them for hours with tales of his adventures as well as stories about his wife, Espy, and their life in France. At mid day, the coachman took a short break to rest and feed the horses, while the traveling party shared a meal packed beforehand on the side of the road. When they entered the cab to continue their journey, Claire already found herself exhausted. She pulled her cloak around her shoulders and fell fast asleep for the afternoon. In the evening, they had supper and rested at a small inn along the road to Edinburgh. They had completed the first of several days on the road.  
Though the trip itself was long, it was not so much unpleasant as it was uncomfortable to Claire in her condition. She had to request several special stops throughout the day to relieve herself as the baby was growing increasingly heavy on her bladder. To Claire’s relief, Margarete’s prediction was accurate. In three days time, they found themselves at the Netherbrow Port.

The impressive Netherbrow Port acted as the principal gateway into Edinburgh, which was a seaport, and a fairly cosmopolitan city. The large gateway with its commanding array of turreted towers was situated on a prominent spot roughly half the way down the Royal Mile. It was one of five other gateways dotted along the Flodden Wall but its location at the end of the High Street marked it out as the most important. The gates and wall enclosed the city in its entirety and were designed to provide Edinburgh with a formidable outer fortification in order to deter invading armies. Unfortunately the defences seldom offered the desired protection and were breached on a number of occasions. Despite their defensive limitations, the gateways and walls still served the city well by efficiently controlling trade in and out of the city. All visitors and inhabitants wishing to enter the city were required to pay a toll. This left many poorer residents effectively trapped within the compact burgh for most of their lives due to the high cost of regularly regaining entry. Except for merchants and traders, most of those who lived nearby would have rarely visited Edinburgh. The gateway soon became known as ‘The World’s End’ to many of the confined residents of Edinburgh as this was precisely the end of their known world. 

They stopped at the tavern called The World’s End, which was no more than a hundred yards away from entrance to the city. While Master Raymond went with the coachman to secure lodgings for the evening, the women entered the tavern just as it began to rain.  
The main room was crowded, warm and smoky, a snug refuge from the storm brewing outside. There were a few women seated on the benches that ran along the walls, but most of the patrons were men. Here and there was a man in the well-kept dress of a merchant, but the tavern hosted a mix of soldiers, wharf rats, laborers and apprentices. Heads looked up at the women’s appearance, and there were shouts of greeting among the men, and a general shuffling and pushing, to make room at one of the long tables. A paunchy woman soon came to take their orders of ale and stew.  
“When do we set sail? I was hoping to visit some shops tomorrow.” Claire asked. Margarete seemed strangely distracted.  
“The ship departs for France at sunrise. We must wake verra early and be at the seaport by dawn.” Margarete replied as her eyes scanned the tavern carefully.  
Claire followed her gaze around the room. “Are you looking for someone in this tavern?”  
“Nay,” Margarete replied. “What makes ye think that?”  
“You seemed as though you were looking for someone.”  
“Nay, lass,” Margarete smiled while patting Claire’s hand. “‘Tis good to be keenly aware of your surroundings.”  
Claire smiled back just as Margarete stood and excused herself. Claire sat with Agatha as she watched Margarete walk across the tavern and begin a conversation with tall man in an elegant suit. He had the look of a very successful merchant. When Margarete returned, Claire looked at her inquisitively. “Who was that?”  
“‘Tis no one of much concern. I kent he could help me find another man servant for our voyage.” Margarete replied casually with a wave of her hand.  
“More men? We already have several manservants with us. How dangerous is this trip?” Claire asked with bewilderment.  
“Dinna fash, _Iar-bhan-ogha._ Ye must eat you stew now and keep up your strength for the bairn,” Margarete lightly scolded.  
Claire sighed and ate her stew with the women while they waited for Master Raymond to return and take them to their lodgings for the evening.

Just before dawn the next day, Claire awoke to Agatha knocking at the door to her room. After a dreamless deep slumber, Claire reluctantly rose from her bed to allow the maid into her room to help her dress for another day of travel.  
The coach was already waiting in front of the inn. Claire sluggishly boarded the coach attributing her prolonged lassitude on her pregnancy and morning nausea. She needed to eat soon. As if reading her mind, Margarete passed Claire a small linen with some fresh bannocks.  
“I’m sae sorry lass that we didna have time to properly break our fast, but we must get to the seaport at once.” she said apologetically.  
Claire took the bread gratefully as the coach pulled away from the Inn and proceeded down High Street.

When they arrived at the seaport, Margarete opened the door to the cab and stepped out with Master Raymond. When Claire began to exit the coach, she shook her head and motioned her to stay seated.  
“Wait with Agatha in the coach while Master Raymond accompanies me to the shipping office to see to the paperwork.” Margarete stated briskly.  
“But...” Claire began to the sound of the door slamming shut. She watched as Margarete and Master Raymond walked quickly into the mix of people already crowding the docks.  
Claire continued to peer out the windows while Agatha closed her eyes and fell asleep. The shipping office was a big building on a market square near the docks that sheltered a great many enterprises that were setting up for the day—food vendors, cattle and swine brokers, ship-chandlers and Royal Navy recruiters. There were also groups of men, women and even children bunched around the square looking for work. Claire felt tug at her heart when she saw some impoverished children. As one bedraggled young boy walked past their coach, Claire opened the door and threw a coin to him. The boy picked up the coin and smiled at her before he ran away gleefully.

When Master Raymond and Margarete returned, they entered the cab quietly while Agatha continued to sleep. At once the coach began to advance as the coachman guided them away from the docks.  
Claire looked around in confusion. “Where are we going?” She asked. “I thought we booked passage on a ship leaving this morning.”  
“Aye, Claire, but we will take another ship. We cannae take _The Colchester_ to France.” Margarete said quietly.  
“Why not? We traveled in such haste. We did not even wait for your husband to return home... or for word from Jamie!” Claire said feeling heated.  
“Claire, ye need to trust...” Margarete began.  
“Trust? Is that so? All I’ve done is trust everyone! Master Raymond told me I must go to France to escape danger. Then we took the unexplained detour to Perth.... and now... we are taking a different ship to France! What I would like to know is why nobody trusts me? Why can’t anyone tell me the truth? Why am I always the last person to know our plans?” Claire felt tears welling in her eyes. She was tired, angry and frustrated.  
Master Raymond sighed and looked at Margarete. “She needs the truth, Mademoiselle.”  
“Aye...” Margarete sighed. “Claire... we cannae take _The Colchester_ to France because the ship will sail into tempestuous weather and sink. Some will be saved in the longboat, but many will drown.” Margarete said gravely.  
Claire gasped. “What? The ship will sink? You cannot be serious!”  
“Aye, it will sink. The weather will be too poor for rescue boats. We have found an alternative passage to France.”  
“Alternative passage? Then why are we leaving the port?”  
“We shall have our own ship. I’ve paid for passage on _The Cristabel._ We shall sail to France from another port.” Margarete replied.  
Claire’s eyes widened. “You paid for an entire ship?”  
“Aye. I spoke with the Captain last night at the tavern. It’s a merchant ship. His crew are picking up goods in Edinburgh to trade in France. We shall be exclusive passengers aboard with Captain and crew.”  
“And what about the passengers aboard _The Colchester?_ We are just leaving them to drown?” Claire asked in disbelief.  
“I dinna ken what will happen to those poor souls. Some will survive, but not all.”  
“We should go back and give a warning... we can’t just let them die!” Claire said shaking her head.  
“Claire... I cannae inform a Captain that his ship will sink. Do ye think anyone would believe such a tale? Do ye think I should tell them about the site? That I am a witch that sees the future? Nay, Claire. I cannae risk being arrested. We know better than that now, don’t we?” Margarete stared back at her with an eyebrow raised.  
Claire winced at Margerete’s indirect reference to her own witch trial in Cranesmuir. _’Touché’_ she thought silently.  
“She is right, Madonna,” Master Raymond agreed. “Sometimes we can only keep ourselves out of harm’s way.”  
“I’m sae sorry, lass. We cannae save everyone... But we can save ourselves.” Margarete reached out and grasped Claire’s hand empathetically.  
Claire’s diagnostic sense sent a shiver through spine as she got the distinct impression that Margarete was still not telling her the whole truth.  
“I understand... But... You talked to the Captain of _The Cristabel_ last evening at the tavern. You already knew the fate of that ship. Why did we even come to the port so early? Was there another reason?” Claire asked.  
Margarete momentarily pressed her lips together in a hard line. “Aye, lass. Right ye are... we needed to fill out our papers at the port. I didnae think to trouble ye with such details in your condition.” Margarete assured her with a forced smile.  
Claire nodded and managed a faint smile but didn’t have the energy to respond. Margarete’s explanation did little to erase the suspicion from her mind. She was not being told the whole truth. Instead, Claire turned her attention to the surrounding scenery as she gazed out the window of the coach.  
“Claire, ye doona ken what is what now, but I promise ye.... soon you’ll have answers.” Margarete volunteered.  
Claire looked her great grandmother in the eye and sensed the sincerity in her statement. She took a deep breathe and felt her body relax. If Margarete was withholding the truth then it is probably because she fears revealing something she is not ready for her to know yet. Claire was an outsider and had not been previously involved in the matters plaguing Margarete. She would simply have to be patient. Silence fell upon them as they steadily moved along on the road towards Glasgow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was VERRA long... and still not finished! For the sake of simplicity, I broke it up into two... this is the shorter beginning part. With Margarete whisking them off before the dead Dragoons come for them!
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	41. The Ghost of Jamie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending a couple months in the 20th century with Claire, Jamie finds himself back at Leoch

Jamie was shivering when he awoke in his bedchambers at Leoch. The room was dim in the early light of dawn and unbearably damp and cold. Jamie was lying naked sprawled across his bed above the warm quilts with nothing covering him for warmth. He shook his muddled head and thought himself daft as he moved under the quilts. He was stiff, sore and simply exhausted. He felt a pinch on his back and grabbed the offending item that lay under him. There, in his hand, was Claire’s name tag. Nurse Claire. He looked at the tiny picture of her encased in the plastic badge. “It was all real,” he whispered and then sat up in panic because she was not in his room. Jamie paused briefly and it dawned on him that Claire must be sleeping in her own chambers. She needs rest for the bairn ye daft fool! He relaxed back down into his bed and was getting comfortable when he felt the damp moisture in the blankets. “Christ!” he exclaimed as he realized he pissed in his sleep at some point during the night. He hadn’t pissed himself since he was a ween. 

Jamie reluctantly got up and wrapped a plaid around himself. The hearth was swept clean and there was no wood or peat for a fire. “God’s wounds! I cannae even light a fire,” he muttered with irritation as he took out his thick robe. How the hell could the servants overlook his room? He paused to look at his backside in the mirror and saw that the flesh was still healed. Claire has sent him to the future to heal him. “The wee minx,” he said aloud and smiled as he donned his thick robe. Jamie wanted to go to Claire’s bedchambers at once but then thought better if it. Claire would no’ appreciate being woken so early by a scruffy, malodorous husband. He decided to wash and shave the itchy stubble from his face instead. If his time in the 20th century taught him anything, it was modern hygiene. How the hell did Claire manage at Leoch with no’ complaint? Already Jamie missed the modern bathrooms as he stepped into the garderobe to relieve himself. 

Jamie carried a small lantern as he walked down the dark hallways toward the back of the castle. His stomach growled but food seemed irrelevant at that moment. He found the staircase leading to the plunge pools behind the castle and walked down several flights of narrow stone steps. He reached a landing and continued down a black hallway carved out of solid stone to another stairwell that led outside the castle walls, At the stone landing at the bottom of the steps, Jamie unlocked a solid metal door and squinted his eyes in the blinding morning light as he stepped outdoors.

The plunge pools were large baths built in a grotto next to Leoch’s stone walls utilizing the water from a burn that ran behind the castle. In winter, fires could be lit behind the stones, which would keep the water from freezing though it was not enough to heat the water. The plunge pools were always cold. Colum viewed the cold baths as a regimen that not only strengthened a warrior for battle, but also a method of curing disease. Colum believed that the water should be as cold as possible so that water straight from a burn would be colder and therefore more effective than water that had been piped some distance. It would also be purer and retain its chemical properties. Colum often credited the plunge pools for his long life and brawn physique.  
Jamie disrobed and stepped into the pool to bathe. He enjoyed quite moments in solitude. It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it. The cold water cleared his muddled head, and he was once again thinking of Claire. Did she remember nursing him? She was no’ yet married then, yet she had said she was married when she was just 18 years. How could this be? His head began to spin. He needed to talk with Claire. After several quick laps in the pool, Jamie got out and quickly put on his robe. 

As he walked back through the castle, he came upon maidservant and demanded that his chambers be seen to at once.  
The maid paled. She stared at Jamie as if she’d seen a ghost. “Aye, at once Milord,” she replied with a forced smile and scurried away.  
Brushing off his frustration, Jamie went back to his room to dress. When he heard the knocking at his door, Jamie opened his chambers to find a manservant staring back at him with obvious fear.  
Jamie took the jug of water out of his hand. “Doona just stand there staring at me. Can ye not feel how cold my room is?” He asked with reproach. “Get on with it lad!”  
The servant motioned for another boy in the hall who entered the chamber carrying kindling and logs. The servant boy quickly set upon the task of lighting a small fire to warm the room.  
Jamie poured the water in his basin to wash and shave. He also missed his Gillette safety razor. A man could shave his beard without the slightest possibility of slicing his throat.  
“Will that be all ye need, Milord?” The young servant boy asked.  
“Nay. All the bedclothes must be changed. See to it at once,” Jamie brusquely replied.  
“Aye, Milord,” the boy said and left the room posthaste.

Jamie finished dressing and picked up Claire’s nurse badge and tucked it in his sporran with a smile on his lips. The memories of their time together flooded his senses. He donned his gloves, because he was also getting all those random stupid images off everything else he touched. He left his room and headed directly to Claire’s bedchamber. When he arrived, Jamie found the room as cold and stark as his own room when he awoke. The hearth was swept clean, and there was no evidence that Claire had occupied the room during the night. He set off at once for the Great Hall where he knew he would find his Uncles breaking their fast. Colum was certain to ken Claire’s whereabouts.

There was an air of melancholy that surrounded Leoch since the mass poisoning that took place during a banquet in honor of the Duke of Sandringham. Twenty two men were killed including the Duke himself. Meals in the Great Hall had especially become a somber affair. In the days following the banquet, there were many rumors whispered over the disappearance of laird’s nephew, Jamie MacKenzie. Some claimed he ran off with the _sassenach_ to France. Others claimed he went to meet the Prince in France. There were some rumors that he had died as well, although no one had proof. In the following month, all rumors were replaced by grief when a memorial mass was held for Jamie at Leoch and a headstone was placed on his grave. While the residents of Leoch mourned Jamie, there were notable persons not present during the memorial...the Frasers. Colum had dispatched his best trackers to find and return Claire to Leoch. In fear of another bloody clan war and the loss of more men, Colum did not dare send word to the Frasers until he could also deliver the culprit responsible... _The Sassenach._

Colum was engaged in a serious conversation with Dougal, Murtagh, and Rupert during the morning repast.  
“Ye ken I have waited to send a message to the Frasers until our trackers have returned. I’ve received word that the _sassenach_ whore has perished at sea while escaping to France,” Colum conveyed in a hushed tone.  
Murtagh paused just as he was about to take a spoonful of parritch. “Is that so? Do ye have proof?”  
“Aye, my men have seen the paperwork from the dock wi’ their own eyes.”  
“She got off a might too easy for a dirty murderess,” Dougal replied with disgust.  
“You brought that cursed _sassenach_ murderess into our keep … and this is yer doing!” Colum’s eyes were ablaze as he stared at his brother. “I will leave it to you, Dougal, to deliver my message to Broch Tuarach.”  
Dougal’s brows knitted and his jaws clenched at Colum’s request. His reaction did not go unnoticed by the Laird.  
“Refuse to deliver my message, would ye? Afraid to face the family of your nephew?” Colum asked as his eyes bore into Dougal.  
“Nay, I am afraid of no one... Especially no’ a Fraser!” Dougal sneered.  
“Then you’ll deliver the message in person and put it in the Earl’s hands with yer sincerest apologies and pray that the feud ends there. We cannae have another clan war.”  
Dougal rolled his eyes. “Perhaps, but I’m no’ so confident. Everyday, there are new flowers on Jamie’s grave from warriors and servants alike. He was much loved by all. Do ye really think the old Earl is going to to accept that a _sassenach_ killed his son and died at sea? Nay! I doubt he will forgive or forget as long as he lives. I doona think the Frasers will keep the peace.”  
“We’ll keep our fighting for the English!” Colum snapped. “Ye’ll go to the Earl with sincerest apologies and wi’ out that damn grin on yer face. The Frasers will be less bitter when they ken our loss... Twenty two men! And the rest that survived? Just look at them!” Colum waived his hand at the men that sat before them in the Great Hall. “They have lost their fightin’ spirit! We can only hope the Prince lands soon and the clans rise with him. I ken the MacKenzie men will get a taste for battle and prepare for war.”  
“Perhaps I can ride wi’ Dougal.... What the devil...” Murtagh froze and dropped his spoon as the color drained from his face.  
The murmurs of conversation throughout the Great Hall began to silence and a hush fell over the room. Colum followed Murtagh’s gaze to see a giant red headed Scot walking toward their table at the high dais. Colum’s eyes widened and he slowly stood while staring at his nephew standing before him.  
“Good morrow, Uncle,” Jamie said as he moved to take an empty seat.  
Colum felt his pulse race and his throat tighten. “Are ye an apparition?” He croaked out.  
“An apparition? What the devil do ye mean by that? Are ye well, Uncle?” Jamie asked shaking his head and taking a seat.  
“A ghost... a spirit! Damn ye, answer me!” Colum growled.  
“Nay, I’m no’ an apparition...” Jamie looked at Dougal, Rupert and Murtagh... they all shared the same stunned and pale countenance. “Christ, have ye seen a ghost, then?” Jamie chuckled as he sat back casually in his chair.  
“Isn’t that what a spirit would say?” Dougal interjected with an ironic grin.  
“Dougal... shut your clapper!” Colum pounded his fist in the table as he stood looking down at them with eyes blazing in anger. “Is this a trick? Jamie, where in the hell have ye been? And Murtagh... Who was the poor soul that we buried in the church yard under Jamie’s name!”  
Jamie leaned forward looking Colum directly in the eye. “What do ye mean by buried? And where is Claire? I didnae find her in her chambers?” Jamie asked slowly in a haughty tone. He frowned as he noticed Colum swoon and grab the table for support. Colum groaned while placing a hand over his heart before falling to the ground. 

Jamie walked through the scullery with Murtagh in search of Mistress FitzGibbons while Dougal and Rupert carried Colum to his bedchambers. Murtagh grabbed Jamie’s arm forcibly and pulled him aside into a small alcove.  
“What the devil...” Jamie cried out as Murtagh roughly pinned him against the stone wall.  
“Twenty two men died the night of the Banquet! And many more were ill... Someone slipped poison into the fare with the intention to kill us all.” Murtagh stared at Jamie with glistening eyes. “What happened to ye, lad? I couldnae rouse ye from your bed. Ye were no’ breathin’! We buried ye, Jamie! Are ye a ghost? I canna believe ye are standing here before me!”  
Jamie sighed as he felt Murtagh’s grip on him loosen. “I’m no’ a ghost, damn ye! Aye, I fell ill from the poison, ye ken. The servants brought supper to my room. I ate the same tainted fare as those attending the banquet. ‘Twas Claire that saved my life.”  
Murtagh frowned and released his hold on Jamie completely. “Claire? I doona ken how that is possible. Colum held her prisoner all night until she escaped the next morning.”  
“Prisoner!” Jamie scowled. “And why would she be held a prisoner?”  
Murtagh shrugged. “She was held under suspicion of poisoning the banquet! Rupert found her in the halls near the gaming room wi’ Dougal. He was badly hurt.”  
Jamie’s face flushed red with anger. “Just what was she doing wi’ Dougal?” He asked through clenched teeth.  
“Claire attacked him from the looks of it. We didna ken he would live through the night. When we found ye in your chambers... you were lying naked on your bed. You were no’ breathing and your flesh had been torn to shreds... “  
“Claire wasnae responsible for the wounds on my back. I received those when I was a prisoner at Wentworth. I didna tell Colum I was captured.”  
Murtagh was dubious. “Ye still havnae told me lad, how it is ye are alive? Jamie, ye didna take a breath or move for an entire day. I put yer body in a coffin myself. We buried ye! We held a secret funeral for ye the next day. Colum didna want to alert the Frasers until we had found Claire. When the months went by, and rumors were whispered about your whereabouts, we had no choice but to hold a funeral for ye in the castle.”  
Jamie noticed Murtagh was breathing heavily and his face was still very pale. “I promise ye the truth... verra soon. But ye must help me find Claire now. I fear for her safety.”  
“Jamie... ye were dead, man! You will tell me the truth of it now!”  
“I canna explain it to ye! Murtagh, please, I beg of ye... help me find Claire.”  
“She isna in Scotland... She escaped wi’ the help of Monsieur Raymond.”  
Jamie raised an eyebrow as he met his godfather’s gaze. “She escaped then? Colum just let her go... or did he have some other idea?”  
“When we found ye dead... we thought that Dougal was dyin’, ye ken ? Colum sent Rupert to slice Claire’s throat.”  
“Bastard!” Jamie yelled as he turned to leave the scullery. He would throttle his Uncles... the lot of them!  
Murtagh grabbed his arm. “Wait! I’m no’ finished. Bein’ as I found the lass, I asked Colum to let me off the lass myself.”  
“Murtagh...” Jamie growled through clenched jaws.  
“I didnae agree wi’ Colum’s orders. No’ when she carries your bairn. When I found Claire, she was scairt and expecting the worst. When I took out my blade, she begged me to make it quick. I cut her ropes and helped her escape.”  
“Give me your dirk.” Jamie demanded.  
Murtagh paused and looked at Jamie skeptically. “Jamie, I promise I didna hurt Claire... if ye intend to slice my throat, ye may use your own dirk.”  
“Your blade please? May I hold it for just a moment?”  
Murtagh reluctantly took out his dirk and handed it to Jamie. He watched silently as Jamie took off his gloves and held his dirk in his hands for some moments. Jamie then handed him back the blade and put his gloves on once more.  
“What the devil did ye do that for? What is wrong with ye, lad?” He asked as he sheathed his blade.  
“I’ll explain _later_. Best we get moving. There are more important matters we must to attend to.” 

Jamie and Murtagh found Mrs. FitzGibbons in the kitchen with the other servants cleaning up after the morning meal. Mrs. FitzGibbons took one look at Jamie and dropped the large plate she was holding and let out a yelp as the plate shattered on the floor.  
“Och! Milord, Jamie... is... is that ye? Or does my eyesight fail me?”  
“Aye, ‘Tis me, Jamie... “  
“But... we had a funeral for ye?” She looked at Murtagh in confusion.  
“Aye, we had a memorial mass for Jamie, but it was a mistake in judgement assuming Jamie was dead.” Murtagh explained.  
“Aye” she said nodding her head slowly. “A mistake indeed. Ye ken, I didna realize at the first ye were gone,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “When ye didna come the banquet, they said ye were ill and I had supper sent to your bed. And the next day, when there was all the outcry over the men poisoned to death, none of the servants thought to look for ye. There was no mention of you, only of Dougal and the men that died. Later, I asked all the maids if they’d laid eyes on ye. No one had, and your room was empty. One of the girls said she thought perhaps ye’d gone to the village—maybe you’d taken shelter in a house there. I turned the castle upside down, then, and made Colum send down a man to the village, once I was sure ye werena to be found. And when they announced a funeral for ye...” A faint look of sadness fell across her solemn face. “Ye must pardon me, my lord, I feart ye were a spirit...” Mrs. FitzGibbons said with a shaky voice. “I’ll ha’ ye to know, that I sorely grieved for ye lad.” She dabbed her misty eyes with a handkerchief and then began to pick up the broken shards of the plate she dropped.  
“Mistress, I’m sae sorry that I didna leave word that I left the castle. We are in need your help now... Colum has fallen ill and has been taken to his bedchambers. We have sent for the doctor, but perhaps ye can see to him now?” Jamie asked.  
“Och! At once, Milord... I’ll prepare a tray to take to his room.”  
“Mistress, where might I find your niece, Laoghaire?” Jamie asked.  
“She doesna work at Leoch anymore... She is marrit and lives with her husband in the village and expectin’ her first bairn.”  
“When did she leave the castle?”  
“She’s been gone for a couple months now...”  
“Aye, she came to my room with my supper the night of the banquet. I fell ill as well from the food served that night.”  
“Apologies, Milord. I dinna ken how anyone could manage to commit such a crime in my kitchen. All the servants were questioned and no culprit was found.”  
“And Laoghaire? She was questioned as well?”  
“Well... no... she left the next morning for her wedding. I ken my granddaughter is untamed, wild and a silly lass... but she didna poison the banquet.”  
“I canna fault your observations. Ye may see to Colum now.” Jamie said grabbing Murtagh’s arm and leading him away out of the room. Jamie stopped in a narrow hallway and turned to look at Murtagh as he took off his gloves. “Hold these,” he said and returned to the scullery after Mrs. FitzGibbons left to tend to Colum. 

Jamie walked through the scullery and began to touch random objects on various shelves. He picked up plates, trays and cups for a few moments before putting them back down.  
“What are ye doin’ lad? Colum is ill and we should see how he fares.” Murtagh said while observing Jamie’s bizarre behavior. He was beginning to worry for his godson’s sanity.  
“Haud yer wheesht! I’m goin’ to find out just who poisoned the banquet.”  
“Och, Aye? Ye can manage that by fondling the plates and cups? Did ye hurt your head as well when ye were gone?”  
Jamie stopped and stared at Murtagh. “Aye! The objects tell me a story. I died and Claire brought me back to life... and now, I have this power in my hands. It’s why I wear the gloves, ye ken?”  
Murtagh stared back at Jamie in bewilderment. “Jamie...”  
“I kent it! ‘Twas Laoghaire that poisoned the banquet. That bitch!” Jamie hissed as he threw a cup against the wall and watched it shatter.  
“Jamie, it was Claire that poisoned the castle. She is a _sassenach_ after all, and who else kens about herbs and potions in the castle save Mrs. FitzGibbons.”  
“Dinna tell me it was Claire!” Jamie huffed. “I can prove you were wrong... the lot of ye!”  
“Ye canna prove to Colum that it wasnae Claire. No’ by some tall tale of magical powers in yer hands. He is convinced the English sent her as a spy to do her worst to the MacKenzie clan. Any talk of magic will convince him she’s a witch as well.”  
“Do ye think she might be a witch?” Jamie asked curiously.  
Murtagh snorted briefly. “I’ve yet to see any proof of witches. But many men think there must be ill-wishes and magic in women, and ye best no’ raise any more suspicions about the lass.”  
“Weeeel, suppose I tell ye that Claire is a witch... by her own admonition!”  
“That’s damning indeed. So Father Bain had the right of it?”  
“Nay! Claire is no’ a witch. She is no’ evil! I call her a fairy. Did ye no’ see her heal Colum’s leg?”  
“Aye, but she did attack Dougal and nearly killed him...”  
“Did she now? Is that what Dougal said?”  
Murtagh paused while considering Jamie’s words. “Dougal doesna remember much of that night.”  
“Did ye ask Claire what happened?”  
“Nay, there was no time. I had to get her out of the castle quickly after Colum gave his orders.”  
Jamie stood before Murtagh and began to undress.  
“Jamie, what the hell are ye doin’ now?”  
“I’m going to show ye more proof.” He replied as he stripped off his sark and presented his bare backside to Murtagh.  
Murtagh’s eyes widened in awe as he perused the smooth flesh of Jamie’s backside. He remembered all the wounds crudely stitched together as well as the various places the skin was flanked off completely.  
“What d’ye say, Murtagh?”  
“‘Tis a miracle! Ye doona even have any scars!”  
“Step in closer, you can see there are some small scars. Claire put new flesh on my back.”  
Murtagh took a closer look and could see the faint scars on Jamie’s back. It was a miracle indeed but would not be enough to convince Colum.  
“That’s no proof the lass didna poison the castle,” Murtagh stated.  
“Aye” Jamie agreed as he pulled his sark over his head. “That is why we will ride to the village at once. I have some questions for the apothecary. I ken he is intimately acquainted with our scullery maids.”

Colum awoke with a start to Mistress FitzGibbons hovering over him.  
“Get away.. get away!” Colum growled as he sat up.  
Dougal stepped forward. “The Doctor is here to examine you. Ye had an apoplexy and fell in the Great Hall clutching your chest.”  
“I didna have an apoplexy! I’m hale and hearty and dinna need a doctor!” Colum shouted. “Where is my nephew?”  
“He was last seen leaving the castle with Murtagh.” Rupert volunteered.  
“You let him leave the castle!” Colum bellowed as his face turned red in anger. He got out of his bed and stood before his brothers. “My nephew appears before me... two months after we laid his soul to rest... and ye just let him leave the castle!”  
Dougal and Rupert both looked at each other warily. “We were fetching the doctor to tend to ye,” Dougal explained.  
“I dinna need a Doctor! I need to ken what the hell happens within my castle walls. Find my nephew!” 

Jamie and Murtagh arrived back at Leoch several hours later with the town apothecary in their custody. They were immediately surrounded by Dougal, Rupert and several MacKenzie guards already on horseback. Dougal rode forward and halted along side of them.  
“Jamie, Murtagh, we have orders to take you to Colum.” Dougal stated solemnly. “And if ye don’t mind me askin’, just where the devil have ye been?”  
“I have brought Colum a prisoner for questioning.” Jamie said motioning to the stout man on the back of Murtagh’s mount.  
Dougal looked over the fat, short man. He had several bruises on his face, and his lip was puffy and slightly bloody. “Who the hell is he?”  
“He is the apothecary in Cranesmuir who supplied the poison the night of the banquet. I brought him in for trial.” Jamie replied.  
“Och, aye? He supplied Claire with the poison, then?”  
“Nay, it was no’ Claire, was it?” Jamie asked looking at the sweaty and nervous apothecary.  
Murtagh swiftly elbowed the man and he let out a sharp cry. “I sold many vials of arsenic to the blonde scullery wench that canna speak,” the apothecary pathetically stated.  
“Sold them, did ye? Tell us again just how the lass paid ye!” Jamie shouted.  
The apothecary remained silent and Murtagh forcefully elbowed him again.  
“I swived the lass in exchange for the poison!” he finally cried out.  
“We’ll puzzle this out later,” said Dougal brusquely. He instructed several guards to take the apothecary to the dungeon. “Come wi’ me now... Colum is waiting. We must ride now to the church yard.”

Jamie and Murtagh followed Dougal, Rupert and several MacKenzie guards as they left Leoch. The horses broke into a trot as soon they reached the road, and then galloped swiftly without stopping until they arrived at the church in the village.  
The men dismounted and walked through the graveyard to where Colum and two MacKenzie guards stood.  
“Took yer time, did ye?” Colum barked. “Jamie, where in God’s name did ye run off to?”  
“I was in the village, uncle. I brought back a prisoner for ye to question.” Jamie replied.  
“A prisoner, eh?” Colum eyed his nephew suspiciously.  
“Aye, a prisoner. The man kens who poisoned the banquet.”  
Colum walked over and grabbed Jamie by the neck. “And how would ye ken about the poison! Are ye a traitor to your own clan? Did the Sassenach bewitch ye?” Colum growled.  
“Nay!” Jamie cried as he attempted to pull himself out of his uncle’s iron grip. “It was no’ Claire, ye daft fool! It was Laoghaire that poisoned the banquet! It’s no canny of ye to torture a lass and then allowed her to work in the scullery! Did ye no’ expect her to take revenge?”  
Colum released Jamie with a grunt. “What are ye fools staring at! Keep shoveling!” Colum shouted.  
Jamie then noticed two men digging a hole in front of a grave. He shuddered when he saw the name on the headstone. _James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser._ Jamie looked at Murtagh who shrugged and then sighed as he watched the men continue to dig up the grave.  
When the gravediggers hit a solid board, the MacKenzie men quickly huddled around to assist in unearthing the coffin. They grunted and pulled the giant wooden box out of the ground as the rest of the men stood looking upon each other with apprehension.  
“Is this really necessary, brother?” Dougal asked cautiously.  
“Hauld yer wheesht!” Colum barked. “What are ye waiting for? Open the damn coffin! If my nephew is no’ dead, then I must ken who was buried!”  
The men set about opening the nailed coffin. They pried the lid opened and gasped as they saw the contents inside the wooden box.  
Colum slowly walked forward and peered into the coffin. He pressed his lips together and turned to look at his brothers and nephew in anger. “Is this a trick?” He shouted. Colum walked up to Murtagh and grabbed his arm and then dragged him to the coffin. “Have a look! It’s empty! What kind of a farce have ye played on your laird?”  
“Nay! It’s no’ a trick! I put Jamie’s body in there myself! I didna ken he would escape before we buried him!” Murtagh shouted.  
“Rupert! C’mere, have a keek! I should have ye whipped but I ken ye are too stupid to be wise to any tricks played upon ye!” Colum yelled and then looked at Jamie with contempt. “Ye find yourself in a wooden box and ye leave the castle wi’out word? Guards, take Jamie and Murtagh back to Leoch! Lock them up in their chambers until I can deal with them!” Colum ordered.


	42. Isle of Iona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margarete has her ship sail to Iona to avoid an impending storm and to retrieve a valuable family heirloom. Claire learns more about her family history.

The rain of early October pattered down on the dock of the ship as they approached a distant shore where the crash of falling rock was lost in the smashing of the waves. Rays of sunlight broke through the heavy mist while Claire stared at a tiny island that was still over a quarter-mile of heaving green water. As their ship approached the bay, the rain let up and Claire admired the large Dunn and rocky hills on the island in the distance as well as the many coves surrounding the island where the green water sparkled as if dusted with little jewels. At less than a quarter of a mile to the island, the crew anchored _The Cristabel_ as the Captain ordered his men to prepare the longboats which would take them to the shore.

Margarete walked up beside Claire and admired the view of the island.  
“Where are we? We’ve only been sailing for a day...” Claire asked.  
“This is Iona. We shall rest here and wait a sennight before embarking to France.” Margarete replied.  
“But... the island is deserted!”  
“Nay, we will be welcome at the Iona Abbey. The monastery has been here since the 1st century. Ye canna see it from the sea.”  
“What are we waiting for?” Claire asked irritably while brushing her windswept hair out of her face.  
“We shall wait until the storms at sea have passed.”  
“Oh... right.” Claire replied remembering the doomed ship in Edinburgh they forfeited passage on.  
“We will be safe on this Isle— “  
“Was there another reason we had to leave Helwater so quickly? There was danger... Captain Randall... _the man _... was he close?”__  
“Aye... Dinna fash yourself Claire. We are out of his reach now.”  
“Well, it certainly is a beautiful island.”  
“Aye. It has a long history and is well known as being ‘The cradle of Christianity’ in Scotland. It would be remiss of me if I didna share with ye the vital role God has played in our clan’s survival.”  
The crew began shouting and Margarete took Claire’s hand. “Come now... the small boat will take us to shore.”

When they reached Iona’s shoreline, Claire was suffering from a bout of nausea.  
“Are you able to walk, Madonna? Or should we have some of the men carry you to the Abbey?” Master Raymond asked as he assisted Claire out of the boat.  
“No... I can walk. I just need a few moments,” Claire said as she looked around taking in the sea air. The wind whipped through her hair while she marveled at the color of the ocean. Moments later, the nausea returned suddenly and she leaned over with a dry heave.  
Margarete motioned to a path that led inland down the sandy shoreline.  
“This path will lead ye to the Abbey,” Margarete instructed to the crew.  
“Rest now, Claire. I can tell ye some stories to pass the time.”  
Claire sat and rested on a large piece of dried driftwood on the sandy beach.  
“We call this Martyr’s Bay. ‘Tis a fitting name considering how many times the island was sacked by the early Norseman.” Margarete said quietly while their crew marched away across the sandy beach. “These Isles were under once Norwegian control until Somerled, a Norse–Gaelic warlord—who rose into prominence through a fortuitous marriage, seized control and established the Kingdom of the Isles. The Iona Abbey was built in about 1203 by the Somerled’s daughter.”  
“What is the Kingdom of the Isles?” Claire asked as her head began to clear.  
“‘Tis the homeland of our ancestors. It is comprised of the Northern Isles of Orkney and Shetland. In Gaelic, the kingdom is known as _Rìoghachd nan Eilean._ The kingdom also includes the ‘Southern Isles’ known as the Isles of Firth, the Isles of Man and the Isle of Iona—where ye are presently.”  
“Yes, Master Raymond has told me a bit about our homeland, the Orkney Isles. I think I can walk now.” Claire stood and took a deep breath.  
Margarete smiled and encircled her arm around Claire’s and they walked slowly across the sandy beach a good distance behind the others. Margarete led Claire to a narrow path with smooth stones inlaid in the sand that cut through the rocky hills covered in tall grass and wild shrubs. They walked along the stone path in silence to a clearing through the rocky dunns and the trees where a large oblong building stood in ruins.  
“I trust this is not the Abbey?” Claire asked as she observed the crumbling grey and red stone walls.  
Margarete gave a small laugh. “Nay, Claire. Ye will have a warm bed tonight. This is the ruins of the Iona Nunnery. ‘Twas built by a MacDonald, one of the sons of Somerled. It was destroyed during the Reformation of 1560, and unlike the Abbey, it was no’ rebuilt.” 

Claire walked alongside Margarete as she admired the scenic views of the small Island. Even through the mist and the light drizzle, she felt there was something spiritual, if not magical about the island.  
As the the Abbey came into view, they came upon a large graveyard overlooking the sea. Claire admired several tall, intricately carved crosses that jutted out of the ground along the road to the abbey and throughout the graveyard.  
“This graveyard is said to contain the graves of many early Scottish kings including MacBeth, as well as Norse kings from Ireland and Norway.” Margarete remarked.  
Claire stopped and stood still as her gaze drifted over the graves to the swirling sea in the distance. A gust of wind passed through the graveyard, ruffling Claire’s hair. “ _Mother_...” she asked with a bit of discomfort. She was not sure she would ever be comfortable calling anyone _’mother’_. “What on earth are we doing here?”  
“Weeel, I promised ye answers, Claire. Sometimes, you will find yourself on a path ye never expected. Doesna mean it canna lead you to a bonny place.”  
“Alright then. I have so many questions. Where do we even begin? Why are we resting here... on this island?”  
“That is a long story. Ye must first ken the Isle’s history. I told ye about Somerled. The Kingdom of the Isles were split between his descendants, the MacDougalls, and the MacDonalds. At the end of the 13th century, king John Balliol was challenged for the throne by Robert The Bruce. The MacDougalls backed Balliol, so when he was defeated by The Bruce, the MacDougalls were exiled and their island territories transferred to the MacDonalds, who became the Lord of the Isles. Iona was also gifted to the Campbells and the subject to the Lordship of the Isles.”  
Claire shook her head. “That title sounds like it’s out of a storybook.”  
“Aye.... Iona remained part of the Lordship of the Isles for the next century and a half and the MacDonald Lords fiercely asserted their independence from Scotland, acting as kings of their territories well into the 15th century. Then in 1462, John MacDonald II, successive Lord of the Isles, signed a treaty with Edward IV of England to conquer Scotland with him and other Scottish nobles. Unfortunately for the MacDonald, the War of the Roses in England prevented completion of the alliance with Edward IV. Upon the discovery of this treaty, James IV of Scotland sought revenge on MacDonald II by taking away all his lands and titles. James IV possessed a large army and was able to impose his will on the West Coast of Scotland, though uprisings and rebellions were common.”  
“And who rules the Isles now?”  
“Since that time, the eldest male child of the reigning Scottish king... now British king, has the title ‘Lord of the Isles’. They are subjects of the crown.”  
“You certainly know a lot about Scottish history...” Claire remarked in awe.  
“Och! Ye ken a lot of history when you ha’ lived in two centuries!”  
“Yes, I’m beginning to understand what that’s like...” Claire felt the wind against her face and shivered.  
“Och! Take this plaid before ye catch a chill.” Margarete said wrapping the thick woolen blanket around Claire’s shoulders.  
Claire paused and looked around. “I’m not sure if it’s the cold or.... this place... I just had the strangest sensation—a sense of otherness. It’s like this is a place outside of time.”  
Margarete smiled knowingly. “Aye, many believe magic has fled the world.... but it has no’ completely. It has taken refuge in the few places remaining where it can still thrive. The walls of this monastery have protected our secrets for over a century.”  
“What secrets? You have given me some history of the island, but I still don’t know why we are here.”  
“Och, I canna just tell ye, Claire. I must show ye as well. Come now, we will talk more after supper.”  
Margarete took Claire’s hand and led her toward the front entrance of the abbey where Claire admired a large cross that stood over 10 feet high. The Celtic cross had intricate relief sculptures carved into the solid granite depicting Biblical scenes and writhing serpents. “This is truly lovely.”  
“Aye, ’Tis St. Martin’s Cross. It has stood in front of the abbey for over 1000 years. No’ everything was destroyed during the reformation.” 

The Iona Abbey was comprised of several connected buildings made of stone and slate that gave a distinctly monastic feel.  The two women were greeted by the abbot who gave Claire a warm and pleasant smile upon introduction. The abbot was a good deal short and stocky. He wore the robe of a priest, but walked with a warrior’s stride. He led them down several corridors and up a staircase to the bedrooms and washrooms of its guest wing. Claire was given a small stone guest room that had been softened by the addition of tapestries and comfortable furniture.  
“Rest now, dear... and someone will call ye for supper soon. You may change out of your riding clothes,” Margarete said pointed out Claire’s trunk in the corner.  
“Thank you. I do believe a nap would do me good.” Claire said and smiled at her hosts before closing the door to her room. Suddenly realizing how tired she was, Claire sank down on the bed, wondering whether she could stay awake long enough to both change and wash. She was still wondering when her head hit the pillow. 

Claire awoke abruptly from a nightmare. Jamie was on the other side of a solid stone wall without a door. She could hear him screaming her name over and over, but couldn’t reach him. She pounded desperately on the wall, only to see her hands sink into the stone as if it were water. She sat up in the bed just as her bedroom door was opened by Margarete’s maid, Agatha.  
“I’m here to fetch ye for supper, Milady.”  
“Oh Agatha... I’ve had the most dreadful dream.”  
“I’ll help ye get washed and dressed and walk ye to the Refectory... it will make ye feel brighter.”  
Claire sighed and got up to go the privy feeling the pressure of her growing abdomen on her bladder. After seeing to her needs, she was about to excuse herself from supper when her stomach growled loudly. Claire smiled at Agatha and reluctantly washed up and changed her clothing for supper. 

Shaking off the nightmare, Claire followed Agatha through the Abbey to join the others for the evening meal. They walked down the stairs and through the corridors which linked the Abbey Cloisters, the Refectory, and the medieval Abbey Church itself. The cloister walk was beautiful, with double rows of columns supporting capitals carved with flowers and birds. At the centre of the cloister garth there was a well kept garden and a small fountain. They entered the magnificent Refectory and found Margarete and Master Raymond already sitting at a table with the Abbot and several monks.  
Margarete looked up and smiled. “Ah Claire! May I present my daughter.” She said to the other monks at the table. “Claire, I was just telling a story about our ancestor who was a nun and lived on Iona.” Margarete frowned at Claire’s pallid face. “Are ye well, Claire?”  
“Actually, I haven’t been feeling well.” Claire said and gently took a seat at the table.  
“Ye do look a bit peaky. You will feel better after supper. Dinna even think about excusing yourself from a meal in your condition.” Margarete replied.  
“Are ye with bairn then? Are you eating for two?” Asked a monk sitting across the table.  
Claire put a hand over her belly. “Yes, I am with child.”  
“Aye, my first granddaughter.” Margarete said proudly.  
“How do ye ken it’s a girl?” Another monk asked.  
“A mother knows. ’Tis the curse of giving birth.” Margarete replied winking at Claire.  
“So, you were telling a story about our ancestor that was a nun on this island?” Claire asked.  
“Aye. Jeanette Thomson came to Iona Nunnery when she was sixteen years old. She was present during the Reformation and escaped the Isle with the other nuns.”  
Claire ate her supper silently as Margarete told the story about her ancestor and discussed the history of Iona with the other monks. When dinner was concluded, Claire was thoroughly exhausted and excused herself from the table. The cloister walk dark and tranquil. Wind rustled as it swept through the island off the waves of the surrounding sea. Claire jumped as she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder.  
“‘Tis only me,” Margarete said gently.  
“You frightened me. I didn’t hear you walking behind me.”  
Margaret smiled. “I have something more to show ye.”  
“Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”  
“I’m afraid not. We dinna have much time here and I must properly indoctrinate ye, Claire.”  
“Indoctrinate me? For god’s sake... to what?”  
“To our magic.” 

Margarete lit a lantern and took Claire through the dark halls of the abbey to a locked wooden door. She unlocked the door and walked down a staircase that lead to a subterranean part of the monastery.  
“A monastery is an odd place to hold magic... is it not?” Claire asked as she followed Margarete slowly down the steps.  
“Aye, ‘Tis why it is safe.” Margarete replied as she unlocked another door.  
Claire entered the dark cavernous room beneath the abbey and immediately the damp foulness slammed into her. She let out a muffled curse. “It reeks.”  
“Aye, I’m sae sorry I have to bring ye down here, but we dinna have much time.”  
“Are there monks... buried down here?”  
“Och, no! This was built as a hiding place. These Isles have been raided for centuries.” Margarete led Claire to a large rock that was crudely carved into a bench. “Sit here and rest for a moment.”  
“You didn’t explain why there is magic here.” Claire said as she watched Margaret cross the room and open a locked metal chest that was concealed by the many rocks surrounding it.  
“I told ye of our ancestor, Jeanette Thomson. She was the first to live on Iona. She was a lass of sixteen years when she took refuge at the Iona nunnery in the mid 16th century. She fled Orkney following a trial and execution of her mother, Collette Thomson—who was named the ‘known notorious witch of Orkney’. Jeannette brought with her our most valuable family heirloom.”  
Margarete crossed the room holding a large engraved box. She set the box down next to Claire and opened it to reveal a very large emerald. “It’s beautiful!” She whispered.  
“Aye. It belonged to Elizabeth. It is this stone that carries not only her magic, but her blood as well. Jeannette hid this stone here in the abbey.”  
“It has been here all this time?”  
“Aye... and it has been safe.”  
“What happened to Jeannette? Did she live here the rest of her life?”  
“After only two years in the convent, the Reformation of 1560 caused the destruction of the Abbey and the nunnery.”  
“This place was destroyed?” Claire asked with wide eyes.  
“Aye. ‘Tis a pity. MacDonald II had used his treasury and resources to significantly enlarge and enhance this abbey in the previous century wi’ the aim of raising its status as the MacDonald Cathedral of the Isles. When the MacDonald Lorship was forfeited, the ruling Argyll Earls—Clan Campbell Chieftains—used their privileged Royal connections to gain full rulership over Iona. During the reformation, an Act was passed suppressing _‘Idolatori and all monumentis thairof’._ Archibald Campbell, 5th Earl of Argyll was dispatched to the west to carry the Act into execution. He destroyed Iona monuments and dispersed the valuables which included an irreplaceable library. Once all the treasures of the abbey were stripped, it was bombarded with cannon. ‘Tis said that his army was bigger than that of England and France. Jeannette Thomson and the other nuns fled to a cave along the coast while the nunnery was destroyed.”  
“What happened to Jeannette and the other nuns? Were they persecuted as well?” Claire asked.  
“Jeannette escaped to Scotland. She did no’ go alone however... she had help. She left with _the man_.”  
“No! That cannot be!”  
“Indeed... but she didna ken the creature’s true nature at the time. She was a lass of eighteen years with no home, family or connections. With the help of _the man,_ her purse was always filled with gold coins. She presented herself to Scottish nobility as a wealthy Heiress with a sizable dowry.”  
“What about the dangers with _the man?_ Did he try to hurt her?”  
“Nay, no’ a first. She married into Scottish nobility in 1565. She married William Douglas, 6th Earl of Morton, who was the son of Sir Robert Douglas of Lochleven.”  
“Was Jeannette happily marriage?”  
“Jeannette was no’ married verra long. She gave birth to a daughter, Anne Douglas, just before her husband died. Anne was said to have been so beautiful that she was known as ‘the pearl of Lochleven.’”  
“What about this emerald? Didn’t Jeannette want to return to Iona to claim it?”  
“She did and with a bit of luck, she arranged Anne’s marriage to the next Earl of Argyll. When Anne came of age, Iona was ruled Archibald Campbell, the 7th Earl of Argyll. He was a politician who, after 25 years of marriage, converted to Roman Catholicism, the religion of his wife. The Earl fled to the Netherlands and was declared a traitor in Edinburg. His lands, which included Iona, and title went to his young son Archibald Campbell, 8th Earl of Argyll and later named the 1st Marquess of Argyll. Through her noble connections, Jeannette arranged for an introduction between Anne and the young Earl of Argyll. They were married several months later.”  
“Why didn’t Anne retrieve the emerald?”  
“At that time, Anne decided to keep it on Iona and felt it was still the safest place. Unfortunately, Anne’s husband was also Covenanter that fought for the Presbyterian religion against the Stuart monarchy. He went around the Iona destroying various crosses and ‘idolatrous monuments’. Anne was forbidden to visit Iona.”  
“Did Anne ever fear her husband would find the emerald? It must be worth a fortune.”  
“His father had stripped Iona of its wealth. He was only interested in destroying religious works. His life did not end well.”  
“What happened to him?”  
“He gained political power when he inherited the earldom of Argyll from his father and, when Scottish Royalists attempted an uprising and met defeat, as part of Charles I’s concession to the Covenanters, he was created a Marquess. As the 1st Marquess of Argyll, Campbell forged an alliance with the parliament and the royalists. He established a new government at Edinburgh and allied himself with the Parliamentarian commander Oliver Cromwell. But the execution of Charles I by Cromwell’s people horrified the Scots and ruined the alliance with the royalists. When Charles II finally came to power in England in 1660, following Cromwell’s death, he at once arrested The Marquess for collaborating with Cromwell and had him beheaded at Edinburgh the following year.”  
“What happened to Anne?”  
“Anne had already passed during the birth of her fourth child.”  
“Do you know what happened to her three daughters? I am assuming they were all daughters?”  
“Aye. They all died save one who went on to marry and have her own child.”  
“What were their names?”  
“Lady Jean, Lady Margarete and Lady Isla.”  
“Lady Margarete!” Claire exclaimed.  
“Aye. Lady Margarete. The 1st Marquess of Argyll was my father. Iona belongs to me.”  
Claire inhaled sharply. “This island is yours?”  
“Aye! ‘Tis yours as well. That is why I told ye about the MacDonalds. I willna be long before another MacDonald comes along and contests the Thomson’s title over Iona.”  
“I see... so Anne was your mother? I’m sorry she passed away during childbirth.”  
“Considering the circumstances, ‘twas a blessing that she died and did no’ give birth to _the man_.”  
“The man? You’re not suggesting... it was a boy? You’re mother... she allowed that creature...”  
“Aye, she was seduced by _the man_. I believe my father was as well... ye may read the letters and journals I have hidden in the abbey’s library and draw your own conclusions.”  
“And what about you? Did you see the Marquess... your father... when he was executed?”  
“Jeanette... my grandmother took my sister and I away from that evil. She taught us to use our powers against him. I brought ye to Iona because it is yours. The emerald as well. This gemstone is a source of power.”  
Claire looked at the emerald dubiously. “Do you mind if we just leave it here? It’s been safe in the abbey all those years.”  
“I’m sorry Claire, but we canna leave it any longer.”  
But... why not?”  
Because it carries Elizabeth’s magic and we need it. No’ just for us, but for your daughter.”  
“What do you mean it carries magic?”  
“I will show ye... but first, I need ye to give me Julia’s necklace.”  
Claire touched the tiny teardrop emerald around her neck. “My mother’s necklace? Why?”  
“Because it doesna belong to ye.”  
“My Uncle Lamb gave this to me. If it’s not mine, who’s is it?”  
“It’s Julia’s and it stays with the emerald. Come now Claire, take it off.”  
Claire reluctantly took the necklace off and handed it to Margarete who then put it in the box with Elizabeth’s emerald.  
“Hold our your hand, Claire. Palm facing up.” Margarete said and grabbed her wrist and held it over the large emerald. Claire’s mouth dropped open as she watch Margarete pull out a dirk and cut a large X into the palm of her hand.  
“What are you doing!” Claire cried out in pain as she tried to pull her hand out of Margaret’s tight grip.  
Margarete ignored her pleas as she began chanting in a foreign language while Claire’s blood spilled over the stone. Claire stopped protesting as she listened to the chant and watched with fascination as her spilt blood was absorbed by the emerald that seemed to be glowing. Claire was almost certain that she was hallucinating.  
When Margarete finished her chant, she turned Claire’s palm up and traced the deep cuts with her fingertip before releasing her wrist.  
Claire looked at her palm and saw no trace of the wounds Margarete inflicted despite the blood still dripping from her hand. She looked into the box and there was not a single drop of blood on or around the emerald. Her blood has disappeared into the gemstone.  
Margarete closed the box and stood. “Come now, ye need your rest and this cavern reeks.”  
Claire stood and silently followed Margarete to the doorway that led up to the abbey. She had so many questions that she didn’t know where to begin. She looked at the palm of her hand again, and there was no trace of a wound despite the blood still on her hand. Physically and mentally exhausted, Claire could not wait to fall into her bed and sleep. 


	43. Love at First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Murtagh visit Helwater in search of Claire. Jamie gets some unfortunate news. A new love triangle is formed as Lord John Grey and Lady Geneva vie for Jamie’s attention.

From the hallway, Dougal heard Jamie cursing, walking back and forth in his room behind the door which no one dared to unlock, cursing and muttering to himself. Dougal opened the door and looked at his nephew. The the devil was back in him again; the old fierce light gleamed in his eye and the ugly, quarrelsome sneer was on his mouth again. Jamie was back to his old self, and life would be a deal less tranquil.

Dougal casually walked into Jamie’s room and shut the door behind him. No one had dared to ask him yet where he had been these past months, but his brothers guessed he had kept the _Sassenach_ in hiding.  
“Jamie,” Dougal said at last.  
Jamie walked right up to Dougal and grabbed him by the throat.  
“Jamie... please! I came here to find out where you went off to these past months?” Dougal croaked out.  
“I was with Claire, and ye damn well ken it!” Jamie growled. He grabbed Dougal’s hand and his went white as a sheet. An image formed in his mind of Dougal assaulting Claire in the dark hallways of the keep. Jamie drew his fist back and delivered a powerful blow to Dougal’s jaw that rocked his head backward as he fell to the ground.  
“How dare ye lay hands upon my wife! I should slit your throat right now!”  
Dougal sat on the ground and looked up at Jamie while holding his jaw. _That damned, cursed woman!_ “Jamie, I have come to see if ye would ride out with Rupert to Edinburgh tonight and rid yourself of the taste for the _Sassenach_ once and for all!”  
“Ride out to Edinburgh? Pay court to the whorehouses? Perhaps burn some crofts and rape some innocents along the way? Rape isna the cure for everything. I’m surprised you haven’t learnt that.”  
“It’s the best cure I know for an obsession like yours,” Dougal retorted. “There’s only one way to find out that one woman is much like another and that’s to try her.”  
“And how did ye find Claire? After ye placed your hands upon her? Satisfactory, I presume?” Jamie asked with a murderous gleam in his eye.  
“She spat in my face knocked me to the ground.”  
“Aye! Claire is no’ like any other _lass_ and ye ken it!” Jamie bellowed.  
Dougal stood up just as Jamie grabbed his cloak and sword and made his way for the door.  
“Jamie... what about Colum? He summons ye to his library.”  
“To hell wi’ Colum and the lot of ye! I’m leaving Leoch for good! Tell the Laird he may call upon Jamie Fraser at Broch Tuarach! I’ll no’ stand up for the MacKenzie!” Jamie shouted before leaving Dougal alone in the room.

Jamie fumed as he marched through the keep. He made up his mind. He would find Claire and return to Broch Tuarach and claim his birthright. The Frasers were a clan on whom any self-respecting MacKenzie would spit. Returning to the Frasers would be an insult Colum would not overlook. If Colum wanted a clan war, Jamie would be more than happy to oblige and take up arms against the MacKenzies.

Jamie approached Murtagh’s chamber and grabbed the guard that stood outside the locked door.  
“Give me the keys!” Jamie ordered.  
The young guard hesitated, and Jamie tightened his grip on the man.  
“I dinna want to fight ye, lad. ‘Tis a fight ye will lose. Give me the keys now then send word to the MacKenzie that the Frasers have left the Keep!”  
The young man handed Jamie the keys with shaking hands and ran off down the hall. Jamie opened the door to his godfather’s chamber and immediately started barking off orders.  
“Murtagh! We will quit this Keep at once. Pack up your belongings and get the horses ready. I will meet ye at the stables soon.”  
“Jamie? What do ye mean we _quit_ the keep?”  
“We are returning to Broch Tuarach. It is my birthright. We are Frasers... no’ MacKenzies!”  
“What about Colum and the truce?”  
“To hell wi’ Colum! My father would welcome a fight!” Jamie’s eyes were ablaze as he stared at his Godfather silently challenging his loyalty.  
Murtagh nodded and grabbed his cloak. “I’ll be waiting at the stables.”  
Jamie walked up to him. “Before we travel to Broch Tuarach, ye will first take me to Claire.” Jamie said through clenched teeth.  
Murtagh looked at him with surprise. “I dinna ken...”  
“Enough! I ken ye followed her! I saw ye!”  
Murtagh’s eyes widened and he slowly nodded. “Aye,” he said quietly.  
Jamie then swiftly left the room while Murtagh stood in shock and confusion.

Jamie walked through the scullery and began to prepare provisions for their journey. As he gathered food, he heard the faint sounds of a woman crying. He walked around the corner and found Mrs. FitzGibbons sitting with her face cupped in her hands as she sobbed.  
“Mistress FitzGibbons... are ye well?”  
She slowly looked up, her eyes red and her face stained with tears.  
“Jamie, my lad. Is it true? My niece was the culprit who poisoned the castle?”  
Jamie took a deep breath. “Aye. I’m sorry for it.”  
Mistress FitzGibbons looked at Jamie bleakly. She slowly nodded. “I ken it,” she whispered.  
Jamie stepped forward and knelt in front of her. “Dinna fash... Colum is a fair man. He willna punish ye and kens your loyalty and service to the clan.”  
“Aye, I dinna fear for myself. ‘Tis Laoghaire... she is a reckless and stupid lass... I fear for her life.”  
Jamie nodded. “Keep her far from Leoch. If Colum finds her, she will hang.”  
Mrs. FitzGibbons looked at Jamie grimly. “What are ye up to now, lad?”  
“I’m leaving Leoch for good. I will miss ye, and if ye ever need a home, Broch Tuarach will welcome ye... always.”  
“Och, lad! Ye have fought wi’ your uncles before. I ken this will no’ be the last of ye.”  
“Dinna be too certain, Mrs. FitzGibbons.” Jamie replied soberly.  
She looked back at him and nodded with understanding. “Weel, let me help ye wi’ provisions for your journey.”

Jamie and Murtagh rode out of the gates of Leoch as the sun began to set. Not a single MacKenzie stood in their path as they galloped fiercely into the cold November night. They rode through the night taking only short breaks to rest their horses, and it wasn’t until noon the following day that they decided to make camp by a fresh stream. Jamie prepared a small fire as Murtagh gathered water from the stream.  
While preparing a hot stew, Jamie finally broke his silence. “I ken ye must have questions for me and my disappearance?” Jamie said cautiously.  
“Mmphm” was Murtagh’s solitary response, after sipping some whisky from his leather flask. Murtagh always looked as though he suspected everyone of something.  
“I’m sorry for the bad blood we now have with the MacKenzies, but there was no help for it. Fergus will meet us at Broch Tuarach. He will travel with the rest of our belongings and inform my father of our impending arrival.”  
“Aye” Murtagh replied cooly.  
Jamie prepared bowls of stew for them as Murtagh continued to sit in silence. “Will ye no’ speak with me then?” Jamie asked.  
“Aye, I’m waiting,” Murtagh replied at he calmly ate his stew.  
“Waiting? For what?”  
“For the truth of it... ye promised me the truth when I confronted ye in the scullery.”  
“Aye... I suppose I do owe ye an explanation.”  
Murtagh looked at Jamie with his eyebrows raised. “Ye were dead, lad. I saw with my very own eyes.”  
“Aye,” Jamie sighed. “There is no easy explanation for it all.” Jamie paused and looked around the forest. “Ye said ye dinna believe in fairies... but what if I told ye they exist... I believe Claire is one of them.”  
Murtagh sat and ate in silence as Jamie recounted all that he had learned about Claire.  
“So ye mean to say, ye ken everything about a man just by holding his possessions?” Murtagh asked.  
“I dinna ken everything. But I do get images... I see events in my mind. I saw ye free Claire when I held your dirk. I ken ye followed her when she escaped Leoch with Master Raymond.”  
“Mmphm” Murtagh replied. “I dinna ken if I believe this tale, but as your godfather I will stay loyal to ye. Even if ye are no’ of right mind.”  
“That is all I ask... and if ye can... try to keep an open mind. The evil spirit is no’ only seeking to claim Claire, but will try to claim me as well. I need ye on my side.”  
Murtagh nodded. “Aye. I cannae say I understand everything ye say... but I will protect ye with my very own life, ye ken?”  
“Aye,” Jamie replied. Feeling unburdened, Jamie suggested they both rest for they still had a long ride ahead to Perth.  
“There is one more matter that we have no’ discussed.” Murtagh said as he wrapped himself in his plaid.  
“And what is that?”  
“Before ye arrived back at Leoch, Colum had gotten word that Claire had perished at sea in route to France.”  
“Impossible!” Jamie said sharply.  
“He put his best trackers out to find Claire. That was the news he received.”  
“It’s no’ true! ‘Tis a magic trick. She’s a fairy and she cannae drown. She is no’ dead.”  
“Mmphm” Murtagh replied as he closed his eyes.  
Jamie wrapped himself in his plaid and closed his eyes as well, ignoring the nagging seed of doubt Murtagh had placed in him.

After several days riding, Jamie and Murtagh finally reached Perth and Murtagh lead them toward the Helwater estate. As they rode through the forest, Jamie heard a growl and saw a familiar white wolf appear suddenly before them.  
Murtagh grabbed his sword and prepared to do battle with the beast.  
“No!” Jamie cried out. “I ken this wolf. He belongs to Master Raymond. We are close.”  
Just then the wolf sprang forward at Jamie as he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. A sword had run through his left shoulder from behind. Jamie turned in pain as he saw the wolf leap at a dragoon on horseback. Jamie grabbed his sword and swung at the man. The dragoon fell off his horse and fell to the ground as another white wolf attacked him. Jamie jumped off his horse and swiftly ran his blade through the dragoon as the wolves ravaged his legs.

Jamie heard the sounds of blades clashing and turned to see Murtagh fighting another Dragoon. Murtagh lifted his blade and swung down on the dragoon taking off his arm in a single stroke. Black blood squirted from the socket where the man’s arm had been, yet the dragoon continued to attack. Murtagh charged forward with a battle cry and ran his claymore completely through soldier’s chest. The dragoon fell off his horse and once again stood and clumsily lurched forward despite the sword that impaled his chest. Jamie ran behind the man and swung his blade powerfully across the dragoon’s neck partially severing his head. Black liquid oozed from the dragoon’s neck as he continued to struggle and attempt to fight.  
Murtagh looked at Jamie in disbelief. “How is he still alive?”  
“They are devils. The spirit has bespelled them. They are no’ living men.” Jamie replied as he swung his blade again and severed the dragoon’s head completely. The dragoon’s body finally fell to the ground. Jamie and Murtagh looked at the severed head lying on the ground as the black eyes continued to move around and blink and the mouth continued to move; the lips curling and twisting although no sound escaped. Black liquid oozed from its mouth and neck.  
“It’s no’ possible!” Murtagh exclaimed in disbelief. He retrieved his sword, pulling it out of the dragoon’s chest while the severed body parts continued to move on the ground.  
“I didna believe it at first either.” Jamie said as he walked to the other dragoon lying on the ground and severed his head as well.  
“He looked dead before we even did battle.” Murtagh said noticing the dragoon’s rotting flesh.  
“Aye. The spirit enchanted them. It has power over the dead. They must have been sent for Claire.”  
Murtagh and Jamie both looked at the dragoons lying on the ground as their body parts continued to move and black liquid oozed from their bodies. The smell of death surrounded them and Jamie could not help but shudder at the site of rotting flesh.  
“We must leave at once. They cannae come after us now, but there may be more nearby.” Jamie said.  
Murtagh looked at Jamie with alarm. “Och! Ye are bleeding, lad! Murtagh quickly staunched Jamie’s wound and they both mounted their horses and rode in the direction of Helwater. As Jamie and Murtagh traveled down the steeply sloped hills into a valley, where the manor house lay, Jamie stiffened his back and kicked his horse, harder than he intended and the horse galloped toward its destination. Jamie was eager to find Claire alive and well. Neither men dared to look back at the rotting corpses they left behind.

Lord John Grey was received in the main drawing room at Helwater. Lord Dunsany was cordially dismissive of his disheveled clothes and filthy boots, and Lady Geneva Dunsany was fulsomely hospitable.  
“A drink, Johnny, you must have a drink!” As Lady Geneva turned to give orders to a footman, his Lordship leaned close over the glass to murmur to him. “This is not just a social call—is it safe to presume you’re to ask for Isobel’s hand in marriage?”  
“Yes,” Grey said.  
Lady Geneva, now in animated conversation with the butler about the altered dispositions for dinner, was unlikely to overhear, but he thought it best to keep his own voice low. “All these rumors about the Highlanders uprising—the country is quite paralyzed with fear, you know?”  
“I have heard the rumors.” Grey patted the old man’s arm reassuringly. “I will keep Isobel safe. You must not worry yourself over that.”  
Lord Dunsany cast an uneasy eye toward him.  
“Quite safe,” Grey assured his host.  
A sound from the doorway swung Dunsany around, restored to beaming joviality by the appearance of his youngest daughter.  
“You’ll remember Isobel, Johnny?” he asked, urging his guest forward. “Isobel was still in a lass the last time you came—how time does fly, does it not?” And he shook his head in mild dismay.  
Isobel was seventeen, small and bubbly and blond, like her mother. John didn’t, in fact, remember Isobel—or rather he did, but the scrawny schoolgirl of years past bore little resemblance to the graceful seventeen-year-old who now offered him her hand. The marriage was an arrangement he made with Lord Dunsany.

Isobel greeted the visitor with politeness, but was clearly more interested in something else. “Daddy,” said Isobel, tugging on her father’s sleeve. “There’s two men in the hall! One of the men is huge! They watched me as I was coming down the stairs! They are scary-looking!”  
“Who are they?” Geneva asked. She was more reserved than her sister, but clearly also interested.  
“Er … why, I have no idea,” Lord Dunsany said, obviously flustered. “I’ll have one of the footmen take him—”  
The baronet was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a footman in the doorway. “Sir,” he said, looking shocked at the news he bore, “there are Scotchmen in the hall!” He turned and gestured widely at the tall, silent figure standing cloaked behind him.  
At this cue, the stranger took a step forward, and spotting Lord Dunsany, politely inclined his head. “My name is Jamie Fraser,” he said, in a soft Highland accent. He bowed toward Lord Dunsany, with no hint of mockery in his manner. “I’ve come seeking my betrothed, Claire Thomson Beauchamp.”  
Lord Dunsany’s eyes misted over at the mention of the name Thomson. It had been a month since learning about his wife’s death at sea. He was still deeply in mourning. The visit from Lord John Grey was his first appearance outside the walls of his personal chambers.  
Lord Dunsany stepped forward and greeted the large Scot. “Mr. Fraser... if you will follow me to my private office. I have some sad news I must convey.”

Jamie sat in the guest room that had once been occupied by Claire. His host, Lord Dunsany had noticed Jamie had been hurt and generously offered them hospitality for the night. The servants had cleaned and tended to Jamie’s wound and he now sat alone in the guest room preparing for supper. _Claire’s room._  
Jamie touched the bed and saw a vision Claire sleeping comfortably. He stood and touched some of the bottles of oil on the dresser and had another vision of Claire rubbing her swollen belly. Jamie wiped a tear that fell down his cheek. _She didna drown! It must be a trick. Perhaps Claire doesna want to be found._

Lord Dunsany had shown Jamie the missive that had detailed his wife’s demise. Jamie touched the parchment with his bare fingertips. It was not a forgery. Lady Margarete had purchased passage to France aboard _The Colchester_ in Edinburgh.  
Sailing on Sunday 21 September 1744, the ship ran aground and became stuck in weather that was 'not at all tempestuous.' A boat was sent back to the shore the following morning for help, and whilst the crew waited for it to return, another ship from the Nore arrived to offer assistance, having heard _Colchester's_ cannons being fired in a signal of distress. The would-be rescuer was however kept from the stricken ship by the wind.  
In the afternoon of Monday 22 September, the fore and mizzen masts were cut away in an effort to prevent the ship working herself to pieces. That evening the main mast was also cut away as it was feared the ship might overset. With water now filling the ship, the crew were crammed onto the weather decks and lots were drawn to decide who could use the ship's longboat to get to safety. Thirty people were crammed on the longboat while _The Colchester_ subsequently sank, drowning the rest of the 60 passengers. Margarete, Master Raymond and Claire were not aboard the longboat.  
A knock on the door alerted Jamie that supper was ready. In spite of his state of exhaustion and mental turmoil—he finished dressing and joined the Dunsanys in the dining hall.

Jamie walked into the lavish dining hall and all eyes were immediately upon him. Jamie smiled and was seated next to Lord John Grey, an English Lord and Soldier. Jamie tried his best to hide his discomfort among these strangers, particularly the Sassenach, and being so far away from the Highlands.  
Lord Dunsany stood at the head of the table and held up his glass. “Tonight, I would like to welcome our guests. It has been a time of grief for us at Helwater and my sympathies to Mr. Fraser for his loss. I share his loss as well. But we must not let our grief overshadow the joy of my youngest daughter, Isobel, who has accepted Lord John Grey’s offer of marriage.” Lord Dunsany raised his glass as everyone toasted to the newly betrothed.  
Lady Isobel blushed as she looked upon Lord John Grey with a shy smile.  
“Congratulations. I wish ye many years of happiness,” Jamie said to Lord John before taking a sip of his wine. He had taken the measure of Lord John, his fine clothes and reserved manner. He was a man of obvious wealth and importance.

As Isobel chatted away in a lively manner with her Father and Geneva about the upcoming nuptials, Lord John Grey had been sizing up his new Scottish acquaintance. From the first moment he laid eyes on Jamie Fraser, his blood ran hot and his heart began to race. His eyes grazed over Fraser’s muscular form with desire. He had not felt this way about a man in a long time... not since his former lover Hector had died in battle with the French.  
John sat back in his chair and took a sip of his wine. Fraser’s face had a look of impassivity. The light glowed behind him, lighting the long, straight line of his nose and the soft curve of his lip, shadowing jaw and brow with sternness.  
John took a good-sized swallow of his drink and steadied himself. “Our families have known each other for decades. It is an entirely suitable match.”  
“Is it, then?” The sardonic skepticism in Jamie’s voice was clear.  
John turned to him, fair skin flushing as he answered sharply. “It is... and great deal more. As you can see, Isobel is a lovely woman.”  
Jamie turned his head to look at John and his slanted eyes narrowed, in what might have been amusement. “Aye, that she is, Lord Grey,” he said.  
“Please, call me John, Mr. Fraser.”  
“Aye, and please call me Jamie as well.” He set down his drink and his hand rested on the table.  
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Isobel mentioned earlier she had become quite fond of her during her short stay at Helwater. It is a terrible loss, Mr. Fraser... Jamie,” he said levelly and placed his drink on the table allowing his hand to brush across Jamie’s hand momentarily.  
They sat silent for a moment. Jamie said nothing, but picked up his glass and drained it. Without asking, Lord John refilled both glasses for the third time.  
“I have felt much as you do, at one time. I—lost a particular friend long ago. You must find it a great burden.” John said quietly.  
The Scot looked up then, and met his eyes with a long, level gaze. Evidently, Jamie found nothing in his own face save curiosity. He met John’s eyes with dispassion. “I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannae help.”  
“Not in having no one for whom to care?”  
Jamie paused before answering. “That is emptiness,” he said at last, softly. “But no great burden.”  
“Your betrothed—I hear was a healer, like her mother, Lord Dunsany’s wife?”  
“She was. She … her name was Claire.” Jamie swallowed, then lifted his cup and drank, as though trying to dislodge something stuck in his throat.  
“You cared very much for her, I think?” John said softly.  
Their conversation was interrupted by Lord Dunsany’s excusal from the table. His face was tired and his grief evident as he left the dining hall.

Lady Geneva was accustomed to getting what she wanted when she wanted it, and damn anyone standing in her way. James Fraser was just the sort of man she had been looking for. _A real man._ Earlier that day, Geneva insisted that her father invite the Scotsmen to stay at Helwater. Tonight, Lord John Grey’s conversation had held James Fraser’s attention. This was a situation she would quickly remedy. She could not believe her sister had accepted Johnny’s proposal. Lord John was not her type, nor did she suspect he was any woman’s type. Geneva still remembered Johnny’s close and inappropriate friendship with Hector, a fellow soldier. By the way Johnny was looking at James Fraser tonight, she suspected he was falling in love again. One thing Geneva was certain of... James Fraser was not inclined towards men in _that way._

Geneva was a good horsewoman—but a difficult _woman_ —one that her grooms were given to drawing straws to determine who would be unfortunate enough to accompany her on her daily ride. Tonight, though, the Lady Geneva had been making her own choice of companion—James Fraser.  
“You rode in on some fine horses today. Someone has a good eye for horseflesh, Mr. Fraser.” Geneva said coyly.  
“Aye, no’ many could outrace Donas; She has the spirit of a Thoroughbred when given her lead.”  
“Is that a challenge, Mr. Fraser?”  
“Jamie, if ye please Lady Dunsany. And it’s no’ a challenge... just a fact.”  
“Nonsense, Jamie. I accept your challenge—you may accompany me on my morning ride.”  
“I dinna think that will be possible. We must be on our way in the morning.” Jamie said as his look pleaded silently for discretion, to avoid accompanying her on a secluded ride.  
“Don’t be silly. You can spare me an hour. Come on!” Geneva insisted. Her sudden infatuation with Jamie was sufficiently obvious that even Isobel smiled knowingly. Jamie’s face turned red.  
“We are no’ in any rush to return to Broch Tuarach. I wouldna mind exploring the stables myself. I have never seen such fine stables.” Murtagh interrupted.  
“Verra well then, Lady Dunsany. We shall ride in the morning,” Jamie acquiesced.  
Lord John Grey then turned to Jamie. “You don’t by chance happen to play chess?”  
“Aye, ‘Tis my favorite game.”  
“Do you fancy a game now?”  
Jamie looked over at Geneva who was staring at him like he was her next meal. “Aye,” Jamie replied and eagerly stood up to dismiss himself from the table and Geneva’s steady gaze.

Lord John Grey had dressed carefully for this evening, with fresh linen and silk stockings. He wanted to make a favorable impression upon the newly arrived guest, James Fraser. He wore his own hair, simply plaited, rinsed with a tonic of lemon-verbena. He had hesitated for a moment over Hector’s ring, but at last had put it on, too. Hector had been John’s first love and was also his biggest secret. The dinner had been good and he had taken more than quite a liking to Jamie. He had fallen in love with Jamie at first sight.

Now they were in the library and sat over the chessboard; the lighter topics of conversation had been set aside in the concentration of the midgame.  
“Will you have sherry?” John set down his bishop, and leaned back, stretching.  
Jamie nodded, absorbed in the new position. “I thank ye.”  
John rose and crossed the room, leaving Jamie by the fire. He reached into the cupboard for the bottle, and felt a thin trickle of sweat run down his ribs as he did so. Not from the fire, simmering across the room; from sheer nervousness.  
He brought the bottle back to the table, holding the goblets in his other hand. The liquid purled into the glasses, shimmering amber and rose in the firelight.  
Jamie’s eyes were fixed on the cup, watching the rising sherry, but with an abstraction that showed he was deep in his thoughts. The dark blue eyes were hooded. John wondered what he was thinking; not about the game—the outcome of that was certain.  
John reached out and moved his queen’s bishop. It was no more than a delaying move, he knew; still, it put Jamie’s queen in danger, and might force the exchange of a rook.  
John got up to put a brick of peat on the fire. Rising, he stretched himself, and strolled behind his opponent to view the situation from this angle. The firelight shimmered as the big Scot leaned forward to study the board, picking up the deep red tones of James Fraser’s hair.  
Jamie had bound his hair back with a thin black cord, tied in a bow. It would take no more than a slight tug to loosen it. John could imagine running his hand up under that thick, glossy mass, to touch the smooth, warm nape beneath. To touch … His palm closed abruptly, imagining sensation.  
“It is your move, John.” The soft Scots voice brought him to himself again, and he took his seat, viewing the chessboard through sightless eyes.  
Without really looking, John was intensely aware of the other’s movements, his presence. There was a disturbance of the air around Jamie; it was impossible not to look at him. To cover his glance, he picked up his sherry glass and sipped, barely noticing the liquid gold taste of it. Jamie sat still as a statue, only the deep blue eyes alive in his face as he studied the board.  
The blue stone in John Grey’s ring glinted as he reached for his queen’s bishop. _Is it wrong, Hector?_ he thought. _That I could love another man as I had loved you?_  
The bishop made a soft thump as he set the felted base down with precision. Without stopping, his hand rose, as though it moved without his volition. The hand traveled the short distance through the air, looking as though it knew precisely what it wanted, and set itself on Jamie’s, palm tingling, curved fingers gently imploring. The hand under his was warm—so warm—but hard, and motionless as marble. Nothing moved on the table but the shimmer of the flame reflecting in the glass of the sherry. He lifted his eyes then, to meet Jamie’s.  
“I know what it’s like to grieve.” John breathed deep, and let it out slowly. “I am sorry for your loss,” he added formally.  
The hand under John’s did not move, nor did the face above, but he could feel the shiver of revulsion that rose from the man’s core, radiating through his flesh.  
They were both quiet for a moment, then Jamie looked up and drew in his breath. “I appreciate your sympathies,” he said. “I thank ye, and I’ll bid ye good e’en.” He rose, set down his cup and left the room.

Jamie dreamed of Claire that night. She lay in his arms, heavy-limbed and fragrant. She was with child; her belly round and smooth, her breasts rich and full, the nipples dark as wine, urging him to taste them. She rose over him, smiling, her hair falling down around her face, and threw her leg across him.  
“Give me your mouth,” he whispered, not knowing whether he meant to kiss her or to have her take him between her lips.  
“Give me yours,” she said. She laughed and leaned down to him, hands on his shoulders, her hair brushing his face with the scent of moss and sunlight, and he felt the prickle of dry leaves against his back and knew they lay in the glen near Leoch where he proposed marriage. Then her breast pressed against his mouth, and he took it eagerly, drawing her body tight against him as he suckled her.  
“Harder,” she whispered to him, and put her hand behind his head, gripping the back of his neck, pressing him to her. “Harder.” She lay at her length upon him, his hands holding the sweet flesh of her buttocks, feeling the small solid weight of the child upon his own belly, as though they shared it now, protecting the small round thing between their bodies.  
He flung his arms about her, tight, and she held him tight as he jerked and shuddered, her hair in his face, her hands in his hair and the child between them, not knowing where any of the three of them began or ended. He came awake suddenly, panting and sweating. It was not yet quite light, but he hoped none of the staff at Helwater heard him cry out. He closed his eyes at once, but the dream was gone. He lay quite still, his heart slowing, and waited for the dawn.

In the morning, Jamie walked to the stables after breaking his fast. Geneva was already on her mount and waiting. She was a good horsewoman—Jamie would give her that—but she was also spoilt and sharp-tongued and Jamie could see the grooms were relieved they would not have the misfortune of accompanying her on her daily ride.  
“Come on, Jamie Fraser! Let’s see if ye can outrace me!” She kicked her mare brutally in the ribs, was off before he could stop her, laughing back over her shoulder at him.  
Jamie had one of the grooms prepare Donas and quickly mounted up and broke out into a gallop after Geneva.

It was a rare sunny day for autumn in Scotland, where the difference between the clouds and the ground is often imperceptible, in terms of damp. Still, on this November afternoon, the sun was warm on Jamie’s face and he found himself enjoying the grounds of Helwater.  
Geneva slowed her horse’s gait and Jamie rode alongside her.  
“What do you think of my sister’s betrothed, Lord John Grey?”  
“It is no’ my place to give an opinion, my lady.”  
“I demand an opinion!”  
“He appears fond of Isobel.”  
“His most attractive quality is his wealth. What do you find attractive?” Geneva asked with a sly smile.  
Jamie clenched his jaw. “I don’t think of such things, My Lady.”  
“Liar.” Geneva said and gave a small laugh. “Do you find Lord John Grey attractive?”  
Jamie slowed his horse’s gait to a stop as Geneva continued to ride ahead.  
She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked as she slowed her horse to a halt.  
“We should turn back.”  
“We have time... catch me if you can,” she said and kicked her horse and raced ahead through the forest.  
Jamie took a deep breath and followed. He rode Donas down the path after Geneva when he suddenly heard a scream echo through the trees. Jamie pushed Donas to move faster and soon came upon Geneva’s body lying still upon the dirt path. She had been thrown off her horse. Jamie slowed Donas to a halt and quickly dismounted and ran over to Geneva’s side.  
“My Lady,” Jamie said as he lifted Geneva into his arms and stood up. He began to walk Geneva towards her horse when she opened her eyes and laughed.  
“I knew it wouldn’t be long before you were holding me in your arms.”  
“Geneva?” Jamie asked as she circled her arms around his neck—pulling his head close and placing her lips over his own.  
Jamie turned his head away and broke the kiss. “Lady Dunsany... I cannae...”  
“Why not? I’m a widow—not a virgin. Or would you rather be kissed by Lord John?” She asked with a coy smile.  
Jamie let go at once and dropped Genenva into the muddy road.  
“Owwww!” She cried as she landed with a thud.  
“My lady,” Jamie said with a bow then turned and walked back to Donas.  
Geneva sat up and looked at Jamie with her mouth agape. Mud had covered her dress and even splattered on her hands and face. She then began laughing out loud.  
Jamie turned around and looked at her in surprise.  
“I look forward to our next ride! And believe me Jamie... there will be another ride!” she called out through her laughter.  
Jamie shook his head as he mounted Donas and set out to return to the Manor House. The sooner he left Helwater... the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is enjoying the summer! Thanks for reading and comments!


	44. Daemonologia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margarete and Claire search through their ancestors journals and letters for possible clues to defeat the spirit that haunts them... aka ‘the man’
> 
> Inspired by James VI of Scotland (who was also James I of England) and his book _Daemonologia_... this book also inspired Shakespeare’s Macbeth... the real King Macbeth also happens to be buried in the graveyard in Iona.

_Claire walked through a darkened hall holding a lantern. The air was putrid and smelled of death. She lifted the lantern to inspect her surroundings and gasped as she saw an endless shelf with thousands of jars encasing blackened body parts. There were so many of them. Claire looked closely at one jar and a severed head floating in a murkish liquid turned toward her. Claire looked at the face of a partially decomposed woman when suddenly the eyelids opened to reveal blackened and rotting eyes. Claire screamed and ran away from the jars into the darkness...  
Claire stopped as she suddenly realized she was outdoors in the darkness. She was standing inside a large circle of stones—much larger than Craig na Duhn. The wind whipped through Claire’s hair and she heard the sounds of the ocean waves crashing in the distance. She was on an island! Claire spun around and saw a woman dressed in white standing before a fire at the center of the large circle of stones. Claire slowly walked up to her. She noticed the woman’s dark hair and petite frame. As Claire stood in front of the woman, she looked up. Claire gasped as she saw the familiarity of woman’s face. Elizabeth! _

_Elizabeth was chanting before the fire. All time seemed to stop as Claire looked upon her mesmerized. Elizabeth took a bejeweled dirk and cut a large X in both of her palms. Her blood flowed into the fire that seemed to glow even brighter. Claire looked into the fire and saw a large glowing rock slowly forming. It glowed with bright yellow and orange hues as it slowly rose up from the fire. Elizabeth began to cut more x shapes up her arm before she fell to the ground. Claire ran to her side and held the petite woman as her arms bled out. The fire began to die out and Claire could see a large emerald cooling in the midst of the ashes. Claire was still holding Elizabeth in her arms on the grass when she was suddenly blinded by daylight. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dazzling sunlight pouring down on them. Claire looked down at Elizabeth and noticed she was now bleeding from her heart. Claire felt a hard metal obstruction against her legs. A large knife now impaled Elizabeth’s backside! “This cannot be real!” Claire exclaimed as she began to cry while Elizabeth was slowly dying._  
_Elizabeth lifted her hand and Claire followed her gaze when she noticed a large man standing over them. He was a tall, muscular man with black eyes and dark hair and a face that bore a satisfactory grin._  
_Elizabeth whispered softly in Gaelic. Claire only knew a few words in Gaelic but instantly understood the phrase Elizabeth had whispered._

_And as I say it, so must it be, and let it harm none._

_The wind began whip violently through the trees. Claire was frozen in terror as she watched the flesh on the man’s hands and face blister and bubble as if he was held over a fire. The heat burned through his body and he fell to the ground screaming in pain._  
_“Wiiiiiiitch!” He cried out as his body was slowly blistering. He was burning alive even though there was no fire to scorch his flesh._  
_“Witch!” He spit out as he suffocated just before he died. As he continued to burn, Claire watched silently as his body was reduced to ash and bones. The scent of burnt flesh hung in the air and she looked down at Elizabeth’s body. Claire screamed as she realized it was no longer Elizabeth’s body that she held, but her own. Claire looked upon her own lifeless form that she held in her arms. She was pregnant and near term but her body emaciated—skin and bones—and her hair was brittle and falling out of her head._

Claire awoke from her nightmare drenched in sweat. She at once felt nauseas and immediately grabbed a chamber pot and heaved into it. The dream had felt so real that Claire could still smell the burning flesh of the man lingering in the air. Claire rang for her servant, Agnes. She needed to wash and dress and eat some food. Then she needed to tell Margarete about her dream. She was the only person who would understand what it meant.

Claire stepped outside the abbey and her hair ruffled against her face in the early autumn wind. She walked down the stone path that led to the abbey graveyard that contained the graves of many early Scottish kings. Claire breathed in the ocean air and looked across the expanse of the small island where the ocean stretched empty all around her. She entered the graveyard and noticed a tall flat stone that stood about 4 feet tall jutting out of the a grassy hill. On top of the smooth surface of the stone was a strange symbol drawn in fresh blood. Claire looked up and saw Margarete standing before a grave. She approached her great grandmother and stood silently beside her. They stood before a small gravestone that simply read: 

_Jeannette Thomson  
—1662—_

“She came back here... to Iona, the date is the year of her death. She lived to be 120 years old,” Margarete whispered. “It was Jeannette, my grandmother, that saved us. She was a brave woman.”  
“Yes, it was brave indeed after surviving the destruction of the nunnery. Who do you mean by ‘us’?” Claire asked.  
“Me and my sister Isla... No’ all Thomson women have been like us, Claire. Some have succumbed to _the man._ He is our family curse.”  
“I don’t understand. You said Jeannette escaped The Iona nunnery with the help of _the man_... didn’t she succumb to him as well?” Claire asked with a frown.  
“Aye, she did... but it was no’ long after her daughter, Anne, was born that she saw the creature for what he really was. He killed her husband...”  
Claire took in a deep breath. Another death.... when will it end?  
“It ends when we finish what Elizabeth started and we destroy him for good,” Margarete said as if she could plainly hear Claire’s thoughts.  
“What will it take to end him?”  
“That is what we are here to find out.” Margarete took Claire’s hand. “Let’s walk back to the abbey now before ye catch a chill.”  
The two women left the graveyard and passed by the stone with the symbol drawn in blood.  
“Why did you mark that stone in blood?” Claire had already observed the cut on Margarete’s finger.  
“For protection. It’s an ancient symbol. _The man_ has power over the dead... But he holds no power here. He cannot pass this stone.”

On their way to the library, Claire told Margarete all she remembered of her dream. Margarete nodded knowingly.  
“I have had the same dream. You are a part of Elizabeth now. The emerald is no’ just a gemstone. It was created by Elizabeth and holds her power. You witnessed the creation of the emerald. When Elizabeth discovered the truth about her husband Cain, she cast a spell, and then cleansed her body of all magic. Her magic is the emerald.”  
“I’m a bit confused... how do you cleanse your body of magic?”  
“Elizabeth was a powerful witch. She had foreseen her own death at the hands of her husband, Cain. Fearing he may acquire all her magic, she cast one final spell. The man that sheds her blood shall burn alive.... after sealing the spell, she created the emerald performing an ancient ritual at the Ring of Brodgar—the stone circle ye saw in your dream—and created the emerald to contain and protect all of her magic.”  
“That Stone circle was real?”  
“Aye, the ancient stone henge is in Stennes on the Orkney Isles... our ancestor’s homeland.”

Margarete paused before the door of the library. “Light the candles in the library, Claire.”  
Claire took in a breath and closed her eyes. She focused all her concentration on lighting the room before her. When she opened her eyes, every candle and lantern was lit.  
Margarete smiled. “You’ll find your powers will gain strength over time.” She ushered Claire into a small aclove with books lining the shelves from floor to ceiling. Margarete removed several books from a shelf which discretely hid a lever which she pulled that rotated a bookshelf 90 degrees to reveal a hidden room.  
“This is Jeannette’s secret office which contains her journals. We shall take them with us.”  
Claire looked around the small, neat and dimly lit room. It contained several bookcases and shelves full herbal tinctures and a small desk. Claire inspected several books but was drawn to one in particular. She picked the book up and immediately screamed and dropped it to floor.  
“Jesus H. Christ! That’s... that’s...” she gasped.  
“That’s Cain’s journal. Aye, the book is bound in human skin.” Margarete walked over and picked the book up and returned it to the shelf.  
Claire’s heart raced and she felt nauseas again.  
“Ye dinna need to read that journal. I already ken its contents. It’s my grandmother Jeannette’s writings that may be of use.” Margarete said. “Sit down and relax for a moment Claire. This may take some time.”

Margarete shuffled through various volumes while Claire slowly began to relax. “What exactly are you looking for?”  
“Jeannette’s latest writings. Ye see, after _the man_ killed her husband, she became determined to destroy him. She trained her daughter Anne, as well as myself and my sisters how to use our own magic to fight him. But never underestimate the creature’s powers, Claire. After my mother Anne married the Marquess, she began to change despite her training.”  
“How did she change?”  
Margarete looked up from some papers. “My father—the 8th Earl of Argyll—was an ambitious man. _The man_ was able to seduce not only my mother, but my father as well with promises of endless wealth and power. With the help of Cain’s spirit, my father gained political power among the Covenanters and Charles I created for him the 1st Marquess of Argyll. As Marquess, my father established a new government at Edinburgh... but this came at a price.”  
“And what was the price?”  
“The spirit seduced my mother and continued his quest for immortality. My mother became pregnant with her last bairn when she was more than 40 years of age.”  
“Well, as a doctor, I can assure you it is possible although a rare occurrence.”  
“But it was no’ my father’s child.”  
“Your mother had an affair?”  
“Jeannette was present during the birth. Anne was very ill and confessed she conceived with _the man._ Jeannette thought her ramblings were due to her high fever.... after Anne died during the birth.... she changed her opinion.”  
“It does sound like she had delusions due to a high fever. How does one mate with a spirit?”  
“I dinna ken, and my mother did no’ live to tell the tale. But the bairn was a boy... I dinna think he was even a human.”  
“Why do you say that? Was the child deformed?”  
“Aye, the bairn had no flesh on its body, yet it still lived. The Marquess, in terror, killed the bairn with his own two hands.”  
Claire gasped. “That’s horrifying!”  
“It was no’ two days later that Jeannette took my sister, Isla and I into hiding in a small village in the Highlands. We left behind our noble family and wealth.”  
“What happened to your other sister?”  
Jean, the eldest, would no’ escape with us. She was already married and settled. I was married as well. My father arranged my marriage to another nobleman in the Privy Council—John Graham, 4th Earl of Montrose. I was pregnant with Antha when I escaped to the Highlands with my grandmother and Isla. Together, the three of us raised Antha.”  
“Did you ever see your husband again?”  
“Nay... I dinna ken what became of him. We do ken what became of my father. As I told ye, he was beheaded in Edinburgh as a traitor.”  
“Yes, he lost favor with the Royalist after the execution of Charles I by Cromwell’s people.”  
“Aye... I’m no’ certain that it was Cromwell’s people that killed the king.”  
“You’re not saying... the spirit... _the man_ killed the king?”  
Margaret sighed. “You’re in danger, do you ken that? Do ye feel it in your bones?”  
Claire shivered. “Yes... I do..”  
“Cain’s spirit is capable of the greatest treachery. The man is indeed capable of killing a king. Are ye ready to learn? Everything?”  
Claire nodded. Margarete gathered the journals and led her out of the secret room. “It’s time for the nooning and ye must be hungry. Read this later and make notes.” Margarete said handing Claire a very old journal.  
“Notes? What for?”  
“Anything of importance. Jeannette left us when my daughter, Antha, was nearly grown—She returned to the Isles of Orkney. Jeannette was convinced _the man_ would return and haunt us once more. She felt it was her divine duty to discover a way to banish the spirit to hell... to finish what Elizabeth started.”  
“Did she learn how to kill him?”  
“I never saw my grandmother alive again. I’m here to find any new secrets she may have discovered.... because she was right... the spirit did return when Antha married and destroyed her. He will come for us as well.”  
Claire suddenly felt cold. “I will read through everything carefully.”  
Margarete smiled. “Have faith, Claire. Together we will end this cursed being.” 

Claire sat in her room later that afternoon leafing through the various pages of the journal. She examined letters tucked between pages written by priests but could find nothing of interest. There were various accounts of the exceedingly beautiful Collette Thomson, Lady of Stenness Lochs who was a healer and accused witch that burned at the stake: 

_Such raven hair you never saw, said one of these to me, and ah, but she was so beautiful before they broke her, said another, and yet another, my child is alive on account of her, and yet a fourth that the Lady Thomson could cool the hottest fever, and that to those under her she had given gold on feast days, and had nothing for anyone but kind words._

Claire read several letters written by a popular inquisitor, Father Louvier, who has bragged for a decade that he had _‘burned hundreds of witches, and will find witches here if they be here to be found in Orkney.’_  
Claire closed the journals and set the papers aside. Before another thought crossed her mind, she found herself fast asleep. 

_Claire sat up immediately when she smelled the smoke. She could hear people yelling outside the abbey. “Jesus H. Christ! The abbey is burning!” She jumped up from her bed an opened the door to greet flames consuming the hallways. She was hot... Burning... hotter... Burning... Burning my skin!_

Claire awoke screaming out loud. She sat up breathing heavily and looked around the room but no longer saw any smoke although she still smelled something burning in the air. She stood and looked out her small window and saw the monks had a small fire burning outside on the grounds. Claire sighed. She was beginning to doubt her own sanity. What if this was all a bad dream? She wanted to be with Jamie. The very thought of him began to make her angry with Margarete. She had been whisked away to this remote Island without even a chance to say goodbye. Claire picked up the journal and marched out of the room in search of Margarete. 

Claire found Margarete still in the abbey library pouring over journals and letters. She walked up to her and dropped the journal on the desk in front of her.  
“There’s nothing here. This is a waste of time.”  
Margarete sat back and looked Claire in the eye. “My dear, why are ye upset?”  
“Oh, you noticed? That is a first! Did you happen to see that I’m over 6 months pregnant? What about my husband, Jamie? How am I supposed to get word to him?”  
“Claire... I understand your frustration, but I thought ye were aware of the danger we are in...”  
“Yes! I am aware! But I don’t see why that means I should suffer now... leave Scotland... Jamie...” Claire breathed heavily as tears rolled down her face. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take... besides... there’s nothing in those papers... Just useless letters from priests... and some woman named Collette was burned at the stake as a witch... she probably wasn’t even a witch! By most accounts, she was a healer! You know how many innocent women perished because of stupid superstition?” Claire was panting as she ended her rant.  
Margarete looked back at her calmly. “Aye, too right ye are. Many innocents have suffered—women know as healers due to superstition and the ignorance of people. I did no’ help that James VI of Scotland wrote a book in 1597, _Daemonologia._ ‘Twas a dissertation on sorcery, witchcraft and the classification of demons.”  
“So... I should blame a dead King of Scotland for my problems? Are we in danger of burning at the stake?”  
“That depends...”  
“On what?”  
“The ignorance of the people that surround us... Come now, Claire... sit and calm yourself.”  
Claire reluctantly sat at the table with Margarete.  
“While many innocents have suffered from superstition and fear... Make no mistake... Collette was evil and deserved to die. She was Jeannette’s mother, my great grandmother and the woman who set _the man_ free.”  
“How did she manage that?”  
“I dinna ken, Claire. But what is certain, is she helped _the man_. It is with her help that he continued his practice of necromancy.”  
“Oh... Master Raymond did tell me a bit about that.”  
“ _The man_ possessed the body of her own husband, Laird of Stennes Lochs. Although his spirit may possess the dead, he cannae keep the flesh from dying. They were both burned at the stake. The villagers were horrified when the Laird’s rotting corpse was walking to the stake. Stories are still told to this day about the ‘known notorious witch of Orkney’ to frighten children.”  
“So you believe discovering more about Collette is the key to destroying _the man_?”  
“I ken it is. That is what my grandmother believed. ‘Tis why she left us to travel to Orkney. It’s her journal I’m reading now.”  
Claire took a deep breath and looked at the journal. “When I was held prisoner by Captain Randall... _the man_ , although I knew he was not alive, he certainly was not in a state of decomposition. Not very much at least for most people to notice. Personal hygiene is not always observed in this century.”  
“Weel, he has had over a century to practice his necromancy. It doesnae surprise me that he may appear as living flesh.... Dinna fash, _Iar-bhan-ogha._ We will find the answer... Now, perhaps ye should go to your room and pack. The men are restless and the weather conditions are fair to sail. We shall embark for France tomorrow.”  
“Thank heavens! I’ve had more nightmares on this Island than I’ve had during my entire life.”  
Margarete looked at Claire soberly. “One last thing I need to give ye lass...” She held in her hand Julia’s emerald necklace.  
“My mother’s necklace! You’re giving it back after you took it away?”  
“Nay, no’ Julia’s... Claire’s. The abbot worked throughout the night creating your own.”  
“You mean... this is another emerald?”  
“After we finished the blood ritual, a small piece was cut off Elizabeth’s stone and fashioned into this necklace.”  
“So this is a different emerald?”  
“Aye, it’s your emerald... which was first created with Elizabeth’s blood but now contains your blood... as well as my own... and Julia’s... and Isla’s...”  
“So we have all poured our blood into the stone?”  
Margarete nodded slowly.  
“I see... thank you,” Claire said taking the necklace and clasping it around her neck. 

It was on board _The Cristabel_ that Margarete taught Claire her first incantations.  
“Don’t tell me you have power over the sea!” Claire exclaimed.  
“Of course we do. We come from the Isles. Our magic comes from the sea.”  
“Jamie once mentioned selkies... what is that?”  
“Silly folklore. I need ye to pay attention. You must remember the incantations, but you must also remember that uttering these incantations can be dangerous and you must never speak the language idly.”  
“I promise... but can you answer me one question first? Where does the money come from? Is it a spell? Master Raymond told me I’m an heiress.”  
“Ah, that is another matter I have my grandmother to thank for. When she left us in the Highlands, she no’ only traveled to Orkney, but Scotland as well. She reclaimed our family fortune and the Isle of Iona. Since we dinna birth male heirs, it all belongs to us.”  
“Your grandmother sounds remarkable.” Claire said softly as she suddenly felt very alone.  
Margarete looked at Claire. “I’m here for ye, _Iar-bhan-ogha._ And for your daughter. Ye willna be alone again.” She said as she put her arms around Claire.  
Claire sniffled and wiped the tears falling from her eyes. “I’ve never had a mother.”  
“I ken it. In a way... I didna have my mother either. ‘Twas Jeannette that raised us. Dinna fash, I will never leave ye. Fate has brought us together.”  
“How did Jeannette manage to reclaim our fortune?”  
“With a wee bit of magic.” Margarete smiled. “Although I didna always have access to it. I came to this century with nothing but my wits and my granddaughter, Julia. I found a man with a respectable position and property who I married and aided me in claiming my inheritance.”  
“I didn’t meet Lord Dunsany, but you seem to have built quite a comfortable life and a name for yourself.”  
“Men don’t respect women, they respect property.”  
“Speaking of men... it’s true then, we cannot give birth to males?”  
“Aye, true enough, Claire. ‘Tis part of Elizabeth’s protection enchantment. Cain’s spirit cannae possess a female.”  
“Do you think a Thomson woman will ever give birth to a male?”  
“Perhaps one day it will be possible...... if we manage to banish Cain’s spirit and send him back to hell...” 

_The Cristabel_ arrived in France after two and a half weeks at sea in the port of Le Havre. It was an important center of shipping traffic, and the docks were the heart of the city. A long, solid wharf ran nearly a quarter-mile round the edge of the harbor, with smaller docks protruding from it, along which were a full range of the ships that provisioned France.  
The crew of _The Cristabel_ began unloading their goods to awaiting merchants on dock while Margarete’s own crew of men carried their luggage to a coach Master Raymond had secured. France was very cold in early December, and the coach’s glass pane windows were thinly coated with frost.  
Because of the difficulties of traveling in the winter weather, it took two days on the road from Le Havre to Paris. And between the late arrivals at dismal inns and shivering with fatigue and cold, Claire became increasingly unsettled as her nauseas got worse.  
“When we are settled in Paris, ye will spend these last months of pregnancy abed.” Margarete stated in the coach. Claire was so tired she could not even move her mouth to respond.

They arrived at their final destination in the evening after almost a day riding through abominable cobbled streets of Paris. Master Raymond and Espy’s house stood in the Faubourg Saint-German district.  
“It’s beautiful.” Claire said gazing at the urban mansion.  
“The _Faubourg_ has long been known as the favourite home of the French high nobility.” Master Raymond explained. “Louis XIV built a grandiose hospital and retirement home for aged and unwell soldiers, the Invalides, nearly 70 years ago in this district. Espy worked there for years before building her own charity hospital— L’Hôpital des Anges—which used to be a Cathedral. The hospitals are a short carriage ride away.”  
Inside, the house was furnished with comfortable elegance. Claire warmed herself in the entrance hall as several footman raced out to unload the luggage from their coach.  
Master Raymond left them briefly as the servants introduced themselves to Claire and Margarete while removing their hats and coats. He soon returned to the entrance hall with a petite woman on his arm. Claire smiled as she gazed at the handsome woman with salt and pepper hair and familiar green eyes. Margarete froze with a look of shock on her face.  
“Mesdemoiselles, I am pleased to finally introduce my wife, Espy Thomson.”  
“Isla!!! Is that you? How.... you’re alive?” Margarete exclaimed.  
“Isla... your sister Isla?” Claire asked in confusion.  
“Aye! My sister!” Margarete eyes were wide in disbelief.  
Espy smiled. “Bonsoir Margarete. ‘Tis me, Isla.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!!!
> 
> Thomson Witches Family Tree:
> 
> Elizabeth - 1300s  
>  _no children_
> 
> Collette - died 1567 (burned)  
>     |  
> Jeannette - _daughter_ 1542-1662  
>      |  
> Anne - _daughter_ 1565 - 1612  
>     |               |                |  
>  Jean       Margarete   Isla / Espy  
>  _daughter_   _daughter_     _daughter_  
>  1585-?      1588-?      1594-?  
>                   |  
>     Antha _daughter_ 1608 - 1624  
>                    |  
>      Julia _daughter_ Born 1624  
>         Died _in the year_ 1921  
>                    |  
>     Claire _daughter_ 1920 - ?


	45. Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie adjusts to life at Broch Tuarach... Brian Fraser helps his son look for Claire in France... Jenny always disliked Claire attempts to fulfill a promise she made long ago to stop Jamie and Claire’s wedding. She finds she cannot stop meddling in her brother’s life... Jamie has a tryst with a Fortune Hunter... a messenger delivers a summons to the Frasers...

_Don’t say his name! Don’t say his name! The old woman yelled. You must forget his name, lass!  
Jaaamieee! Claire cried out before she began screaming..._

Jamie awoke in a sweat even though his room was as cold as ice as the fire had nearly burned out. The dream of Claire replayed in his mind. It was the middle of the night and the castle was dark, but he could hear the sounds of someone walking through the halls. The servants are never up this late, he thought. And then he heard a strange noise, it was like a baby crying, far far away.

It was the beginning of February and days were cold and the nights even colder. The glass panes of his bedroom windows were coated thick with frost. Jamie was naked, and a ripple of gooseflesh brushed his shoulders and raised the red-gold hairs on his arms and legs. Accustomed to cold, though, he neither shivered nor hurried as he pulled on stockings and shirt. He added more wood to the fire before leaving his room to fetch some more whiskey. He had finished a bottle before bed but awoke surprisingly sober. He had been drinking a lot these past few months. _A lot more than he should._

When Jamie arrived at Broch Tuarach, he resumed his search for Claire and passionately appealed to his father for help. The Earl sent several missives to France—one to his cousin Jared, a successful merchant with noble connections, as well as other officials who may obtain information as to the whereabouts of his son’s betrothed.  
_If she in indeed alive in France... we will find her,_ his father gravely stated. Brian Fraser did not believe Claire had survived the shipwreck at sea. 

Jamie kept himself occupied attending to the tenants on their lands and helping his father with the estate. As the days passed and no word arrived save the rumours of the Rising, it seemed as if the walls of Broch Tuarach grew taller and the light in the great Castle less as hope died in his heart and turned everything to bitterness. And now Claire’s name was rarely mentioned between his father and himself and Jenny was forbidden to speak of what had happened. Jamie worked until he was so tired at night that he sometimes fell asleep in his chair sitting opposite his father. And when the loss of Claire became too much for him to bear, he would empty his whisky glass before grabbing a new bottle and imprison himself in his chambers. There he would open the trunk full of Claire’s finery. With bare hands, he would delicately touch the wedding dress and her other clothing he had sent from Leoch and allow the images and memories to overtake his senses.

Although the night was cold, Jamie sat alone in the Green Salon, unable to sleep and unwilling to go back to his room. His nightmare about Claire made sleep oppressive to him. _You must forget his name, lass!_ He heard a woman yell. Was someone trying to keep him and Claire apart? As he poured a fresh glass of whisky, he tried not to think of Claire and the emptiness of what had become his daily life. It was just past midnight, and Jamie was grateful the Castle was silent and empty. The Earl had retired early that evening as Jamie had imbibed too much throughout supper. Murtagh and Fergus helped him to his own bed hours earlier—taking the empty whisky bottle out of his hand. 

Jamie let out a long sigh and relaxed slightly as the whisky began to dull his senses once again. Far away in the halls, he heard steps echoing. A servant, perhaps? He listened until he could no longer hear the distant footsteps, and he realized he was hearing that sound again, _a baby crying._  
He rose to his feet, and walked into the dark hallway. Had someone sighed in the darkness? He turned around. Nothing but the empty room around him. He walked on through the hallway, not bothering to soften his footfalls, letting them echo loudly and obtrusively. There was a faint clicking. A door closing?  
Jamie turned and walked straight into Mary MacNab, the youngest daughter of the Laird to a neighboring clan. 

Since Jamie’s return home, Jenny had kept the castle filled with unattached women, hoping he’d marry one of them. Jamie had maintained a distance with Castle’s guests, making it clear to the women that their presence and attention was unwanted. Much to Jenny’s ire, their last visitor—the young laird Fiona Mackintosh—had just left despite the harsh travel conditions after a severe winter snow storm. Jenny had hoped Fiona would remain at Broch Tuarach until the Spring. She was furious with her brother and began provoking heated arguments. “How dare ye show such inhospitality to Fiona! She’s only eighteen years old!” Jenny yelled. “You hurt the poor lass! She could bear many bairns, and be a good mother! How much of that whisky have ye had?”  
“I’m handfasted with Claire, and ye wish me to take another wife!” He yelled back in anger.  
“How long is it since ye’ve lain wi’ a woman, Jamie?”  
Shocked, he turned on his heel to stare at her. “What the hell sort of question is that to ask a man?”  
“You’ve not gone wi’ any of the unwed lasses of Broch Tuarach,” she went on, paying no attention. “Or I’d have heard of it. None of the widows, either, I dinna think?”  
“Ye know damn well I haven’t,” he said shortly. He could feel his cheeks flushing with annoyance.  
“Why not?” Jenny asked.  
“Why not?” He stared at her, his mouth slightly open. “Have ye lost your senses? I willna be unfaithful to Claire!”  
“I ken ye mourn Claire. Jamie... she’s dead. Ye dinna think Claire would mean ye to live alone all your life, with no one to comfort ye or bear your children?”  
“Claire is no’ dead! She is with child! Stay out of this, Jenny! Or ye will regret it!” He felt suddenly hollow inside and rose quickly knocking his chair to the ground and walked out of the room in a rage.

Jamie now stared at Mary McNab in the darkened hallway. If Jenny had planned this, she was about to be disappointed once again.  
“I would have thought Jenny had sent all the possible brides home by now,” Jamie said curtly as he looked at Mary in the darkened hallway. Her robe was slightly agape revealing her delicate shift underneath.  
“Aye, she did,” Mary admitted on a sigh. “‘Tis the storm that has prevented my journey home.”  
“Why are ye no’ in bed, then?” He asked softly.  
“I couldna sleep. I was looking for...”  
“Are ye hungry lass?”  
“Nay, a drink. Whisky.”  
“Aye, I was just having one myself. You’re welcome to join me in the Green Salon... If ye dinna think it immoral?”  
“Why not?” she replied. “We’re alone, aren’t we? The servants are all abed? No one will know..”  
“Aye... but a young maid like yourself, alone with me in the middle of the night... I’m sure you’ve heard of my reputation.”  
Her gaze lingered on him. “You’re a good man, Jamie.” Mary smiled. “Ye wouldna take advantage of any woman... young maid or not.”  
“In this case, I expect you’re right. Follow me lass.”

Jamie poured Mary a drink as they sat in the Green Salon. Moonlight poured in through the windows casting shadows around the room.  
“Do ye not want to light a lamp?”  
“Nay, I like the darkness.” There was a heavy silence in the room.  
“You’re in mourning...” Mary began softly.  
“Let’s no’ speak of it. Tell me, how old are ye?”  
“Twenty two. My father wishes me to wed as soon as possible.”  
“So ye accepted Jenny’s invitation.” Jamie shrugged. “I’m sorry, lass. My sister had good intentions, but I’m afraid I must admit I’m a disappointment.”  
“How could ye ever be a disappointment? A handsome son of an Earl...”  
“You think I’m handsome? Would ye like to be a Countess?”  
Mary paused realizing she overstepped. “Nay... I just meant... ye could never be a disappointment ... Jenny said...” Mary trailed off flustered.  
“What did my sister say?” Jamie asked with keen interest.  
“She said... The best cure for a broken heart is to marry another at once.”  
Jamie leaned closer to Mary. “My sister needs to mind her own damn business.... matchmaking’s no’ in her line, aye?” he said, with a noticeable edge to his voice.  
Mary nervously picked up her glass and drained it. Jamie refilled it at once. “If ye want a husband... I expect you can think of a suitable man or two for the job, if ye put your mind to it?”  
“I expect I can,” she said, matching his edge with one of her own.  
He glanced at the window, where the frost coated the glass in slanting streaks. “A vicious time of year for it, though.”  
Mary shrugged, and sat forward a bit in her chair. “The spring will be here soon.”  
“That’s true enough.” Jamie sighed and took another sip of whisky; basking in the warmth the drink spread through his body. He paused for a moment holding his glass steady. He was hearing that sound again. _A baby crying._ “Do ye hear that?”  
“Hear what?” Mary looked around the room.  
“I thought I heard a baby crying.”  
There was a long silence in the room. “There’s no’ baby crying, Jamie.” Mary finally said.  
“I fear I’m losing my wits, lass. I couldna help... well... it doesna matter now. I am as useless to you as I was to her.” Jamie said in a choked voice as tears suddenly slid down his face.  
Mary stretched out a hand to him, face filled with distress. “Jamie, let me help ye to bed,” she said putting her arm around him.

Mary ushered Jamie silently into his bedchamber and shut the door. Jamie put another log on the fire before sitting on the bed. Mary walked over to Jamie, her dark hair loosely framed her face... _Just like Claire’s._ Her lips were full and gently curved. He realized that he was staring at her mouth, and hastily turned away. “Thank ye for comforting me lass.” He expected her to go then, but she did not.  
She loosened her robe and let it drop to the floor. Then she untied her shift and let that drop to the floor as well.  
Jamie crossed his arms as he looked upon her naked body. “Oh, like that, is it?” he demanded. “And whose idea was this? Yours, or my sister’s?”  
“Does it matter?” She was composed, her dark hair shining in the glow of the fire. He wanted to run his fingers through it.  
He shook his head and stood. “No, it doesna matter, because it’s no going to happen. I appreciate your meaning, but—”  
His speech was interrupted by her kiss. Her lips were as soft as they looked. He grasped her firmly by both wrists and pushed her away from him. “No!” he said.  
She looked back at him with a slight smile curving her full, sweet lips.  
Jamie felt his traitorous body begin to stiffen and Mary responded by stepping forward and taking his cock in her hand.  
“Don’t do that!” he exclaimed.  
“How d’ye mean to stop me?” she asked as her slender fingers firmly gripped him.  
“If ye won’t leave, then I’ll have to,” he replied with decision. He pushed her hand away and whirled on his heel heading for the door.  
“My lord!” she said.  
He stopped, but did not turn around. “It isna suitable to call me that,” he said.  
“Broch Tuarach is yours,” she said.  
“It isna mine. The estate belongs yet to my father.”  
“It will be yours one day. And it isna your sister that’s asked me to do what I’m doin’. Turn round.”  
He turned, reluctantly. She stood naked before the fire, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. _Just like Claire._ She was thin, but her breasts were larger than he had thought, and her nipples looked like tiny pink rosebuds. He closed his eyes and heard that maddening sound again. _A baby crying._ He felt a light touch on his arm, and willed himself to stand still.  
“I ken weel enough what ye’re thinkin’,” she said. “For I have loved and lost,” she added, in a softer voice. ”It’s not in my mind to make ye feel ye’ve betrayed it.”  
The touch, feather-light, moved to his cheek, and a thumb traced the groove that ran from nose to mouth. “What I want,” she said quietly, “is to give ye something different.”  
He heard her draw breath, and the touch on his face lifted away. He felt tears sting his eyelids. The weightless touch moved across his face, wiping the moisture from his eyes, smoothing the roughness of his hair. He lifted his arms, slowly, and reached out. She stepped inside his embrace, and slowly led him to the bed. 

Mary quickly undressed Jamie and they lay together on the bed. Jamie ran his fingers through her long dark hair as she kissed his neck. She firmly grasped her hand around him and his cock jumped in her hands. Jamie closed his free hand around hers, urging her on and immediately regretted it as he found his release right then. He groaned as he came hard and fast, his seed exploding over Mary’s hand and legs. As his breathing returned to normal, Mary released him from her grip and started to sit up.  
“Lay back, lass,” Jamie whispered as he pushed down on his bed. He brought her backside flush against his chest and nuzzled his face in her dark wavy hair.  
Mary groaned as Jamie’s hand slowly traveled over her hip and slipped between her thighs and began to massage her hot wet center.  
“Yes, take me.” she whispered as he dipped his fingers against the wet dew of her folds.  
Jamie pushed his fingers deep inside her clenching quim, and his cock began to stiffen again as he felt her legs tremble.  
“Faster,” she said, her body clenching, the wet walls of her gripping his fingers tight. Already, she was close to climaxing.  
Jamie pumped his hand faster and bit Mary’s neck as she cried out, her entire body shook violently with release.  
Jamie turned and laid flat on his back and looked up to the ceiling. Mary turned and rested her head against his shoulder.  
She took his hand in hers and began to massage it lightly. “You have magical hands,” she whispered coyly.  
Jamie closed his eyes. _Too right ye are lass._  
Mary lifted her head up and hovered over Jamie for a moment, admiring his strong jawline and full lips, before placing her lips gently over his own. She tasted like whisky as teased and probed Jamie’s mouth with her tongue and then pulled away, a smile on her lips.  
Jamie opened his eyes and felt his cock ache as Mary began placing small kisses on his chest as she worked her way down. He groaned in pleasure as her lips surrounded him and slowly brought him into her mouth. She flicked her tongue, teasing him as she ran it over the length of his cock. Jamie ran his fingers through her hair, while pushing her head down urging her for more as his breath hitched. “Aye, lass, like that.” He whispered.  
Mary looked up and slowly brought the length her body across his. “I want ye to take me now. Take my maidenhead,” she said huskily.  
Jamie’s face darkened with a frown. He knew Mary was not a virgin. _Why was she lying?_ Jamie ran his hands over her hips when he felt a strange sensation. He remembered the echos he heard through the night. _A baby crying._ Jamie looked into Mary’s eyes. Within in instant, he could read her mind. It was the sight. Images and thoughts flashed through his mind as he caressed Mary’s body. _A footman. Her secret lover. A pregnancy. Mary needed a husband. Family pressure to wed a man of wealth. She was a fortune hunter._ ”Nay lass, it wouldna be proper. I dinna bed virgins.”  
“I think ye do, James Fraser.” She said as she gripped his hard length.  
The way she said his name reminded him of Laoghaire. _Would the little fiend not go away?_ Mary smiled as she began to stroke his length and place kisses on his chest. _She wouldn’t._ “You have lost your mind,” Jamie said coldly.  
Mary’s face flamed and her eyes narrowed. “How dare you speak that way to me!”  
“How dare ye speak so to me?” Jamie replied hotly. “A wee daughter of a Laird to be makin’ indecent proposals to a man of her neighboring clan... while she is a guest at his Castle?” he added, recollecting who he was.  
Mary glared at him. “My wits are not addled in the slightest!”  
Jamie stared back at her. Her chin was little and pointed, so were her teeth, and with that particular expression of determination on her face, he thought she looked a great deal like the bloody-minded vixen she was.  
“I am fully sensible of the honor, my lady,” he said at last, with a heavy irony, “but I really cannot—”  
“Yes, you can.” Her eyes bore into him. “Do ye want me to scream? I’ll wake the entire castle. I’ll tell my father you made improper advances to me. He’ll have the skin flayed off your back.”  
Jamie froze. She couldn’t possibly know. He looked at his backside many times over the past few months. The scars were faint and barely noticeable. He stared back at her. The light of triumph was in her eye.  
“Is it a safe day?” He asked sardonically.  
“A safe day?” She looked blank.  
“Sometime in the week after ye’ve finished your courses,” he said bluntly. “You’re less likely to get wi’ child then.”  
“Oh.” She said nervously at that. “It’s quite safe.”  
“Aye, I’ll see to it...Grab me the bottle of oil on the table.”  
“What for?”  
“It will hurt less if I ready you properly. Ye offered me something different. Do ye want it or not?” Jamie felt his cock stiffen as she grabbed the oil. His traitorous anatomy didn’t care a whit that she was a selfish, conniving little bitch.  
Mary nodded and shyly handed him the oil.  
“Lay on your stomach, lass.”  
Mary laid back on the bed and Jamie spread her legs and knelt down between them. He quickly covered his cock with the oil allowing a small amount to fall down the crevice of her buttocks.  
Jamie stretched his body over hers and placed small kisses on the back of her neck while his hand caressed her buttocks, one and then the other, cupping each to feel the weight of them. He took his time, moving slowly while stroking and kissing, touching her lightly all over.  
“All right,” he murmured in her ear. “Be still, mo chridhe.” Murmuring what he hoped sounded like reassurances, he eased his weight on top of her, and used his knee to spread her legs further apart. He felt her slight start at the heat of his body covering her, at the touch of his cock, and he wrapped his hands in her hair to steady her, still muttering things in soft Gaelic.  
He pushed his cock into her back entrance.  
“Wait a minute,” said Mary. “I think perhaps …”  
The effort of control made him dizzy, but he did it slowly, only easing himself the barest inch within.  
“Ooh!” said Mary. She turned her head and her eyes were wide open.  
“Uh,” he said, and pushed a bit farther into her arse.  
“Stop it! You can’t put it there! It’s too big! Take it out!” Panicked, Mary thrashed beneath him.  
Her struggles were accomplishing by force what he had tried to do with gentleness. Half-dazed, he fought to keep her under him, while groping madly for something to say to calm her.  
“But—” he said.  
“Stop it!”  
“I—”  
“Take it out!” she screamed.  
He clapped one hand over her mouth and said the only coherent thing he could think of. “No,” he said definitely, and shoved.  
What might have been a scream emerged through his fingers as a strangled “Eep!”  
Mary’s eyes were huge and round, but dry.  
There was precisely one thing he was capable of doing at this point, and he did it, his body ruthlessly usurping control as it moved into the rhythm of its inexorable joy. He lifted her hips slightly as he brought a hand around to the apex of her thighs. He moved his well oiled fingers through her folds to find her sensitive little nub. He moved as gently as he could while still whispering reassuring words.  
Mary’s body began to relax as Jamie felt her growing excitement. “I want to feel ye climax around me.” He whispered as he slipped his fingers around her nub, throbbing and so damn wet. He continued to tease her, pushing her to the edge until she shattered, her insides spasming, gripping him, fluttering—her arse squeezing his cock.  
Jamie growled, his hands gripped Mary’s hips and he began pounding into her. It took no more than a few thrusts before the wave came down upon him, churning down the length of his spine and erupting, sweeping away the last shreds of conscious thought.  
He came to himself a moment later, lying on his back with the sound of his own heartbeat loud and slow in his ears. He cracked one eyelid, and saw glow of the fire still shimmering in her dark hair. He must see if he’d hurt her much, but God, not just this minute. He shut his eye again and merely breathed. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

Jamie awoke later than usual the next morning feeling more rested than he had in many weeks. He was alone in his bed and the faint stain of oil on his bedsheets was the only evidence left of his late night tryst with Mary. He took his time bathing and dressing for the day. Noticing it was almost eleven, he headed downstairs where his family would be waiting for their morning chocolate.  
The chocolate was a ritual which never varied. At eleven the Earl and his son and daughter and his wife drank chocolate in the Long Library and discussed the business of the day. It was a leisurely habit which had originated with the Earl’s French mother. She had been an heiress and an exuberant and lively woman, and she had begun to improve and civilize her new home and seduce her fierce husband from his uncouth tastes in food and drink and a day beginning with porridge and meat at sunrise and the same diet, followed by bed, as soon as the sun had set. She had panelled the Green Salon and covered the walls in soft green silk, and filled it with beautiful furniture made by some of the best craftsmen in her native France. The tulip-wood table and the elegant walnut chairs with their fine embroidery were hers, and over the years she had transformed other of the state rooms in the bleak, forbidding Castle, filling them with colour and elegance and catching the Scottish sun by the reflection of many mirrors.  
The Great Hall was untouched. Brian said that his father had looked on with an indulgent, even an approving, eye while his wife brought comfort and grace into his home. But his indulgence did not permit the dispersal of his family’s collection of arms and armour or the hundred heads of stag which decorated the Great Hall. It was never known what the Countess planned to do with it, because the Frasers took part in the Rebellion of 1715 in favour of the Catholic claimant to the thrones of Scotland and England. The little French Countess was widowed by the executioner in the public square at Edinburgh. 

The old Earl and his Countess were long dead, but the morning chocolate survived in their memory. But when Jamie went down, only Jenny, Mary and the Countess were there, waiting.  
“Where is father?” he asked Jenny.  
“I don’t know,” Jenny answered. “We have been here for some ten minutes or more discussing wedding plans.” She looked quickly at Mary before looking back at Jamie with a triumphant smile on her face. She knew the significance her statement would have upon her brother. She enjoyed taunting him.  
Jamie casually took a seat at the table. If his sister wanted to battle, he was more than willing and ready. “Weel, spring will be upon us soon—a bonny time for a wedding. Whose wedding are ye planning?”  
Mary’s face turned a deep shade of red.  
“We are discussing your wedding, ye clot-heid!” Jenny answered.  
“Then ye’ve received word from France? Claire has been found?”  
Mary immediately stood and excused herself from the table.  
“Nay! Ye canna leave, Mary!” Jenny grabbed Mary’s hand and urged her to sit back down. In her agitation, Jenny allowed her voice to rise momentarily. “Jamie! I willna allow ye to insult our guest!”  
Just then, the servants came into the room to serve the morning chocolate. Jamie sighed as a maid filled his cup. “Add a splash of whisky to my chocolate.” He asked the servant before giving Jenny a harsh look. “I came down here to speak with father... not to argue...”  
“How could ye, Jamie? Taking liberties with this young lass and not carin’ about her honor or reputation!”  
Jenny’s rant was interrupted as Brian Fraser walked into the Long Library. “Good morrow?” the Earl said as his tired eyes looked upon the agitated faces of his children. “What lady’s reputation is in question?” He asked as he calmly took a seat.  
“Your son, has compromised the virtue of my _guest_ and now refuses to offer a proper proposal of marriage. She could already be with child!”  
Brian’s eyes widened at he looked at his son. “Is this true?”  
“Nay. She doesna carry my child. If she is with child, her father best question his own footman. It’s no’ possible she is with my child. Isn’t that so, Mary?” Jamie looked at Mary as her eyes welled up with tears and she immediately stood and ran out of the room.  
“Are ye no ashamed?” Jenny cried, scandalized.  
“Yes,” he said, quite mildly. “I am. But I willna marry the lass. I didna take her maidenhead. She was already with child when she came to Broch Tuarach.”  
Jenny gasped. “Jamie! How can ye utter such lies?”  
“Because it’s God’s truth! Fortune hunters, Jenny! That’s who ye invited into our home. It’s well know that the MacNabs have been an impoverished clan for years. Father, please tell her. They’ve sold hundreds of acres of land.”  
The old Earl shrugged. “He’s right Jenny. A Fraser marriage to a MacNab would no’ be an advantageous union. It would be quite the opposite,” he stated matter of factly before sipping his morning chocolate.  
Jenny mouth dropped open. “Why... you married a MacKenzie yourself, how can ye lecture me about advantageous unions!”  
The Earl turned and glared at his second wife. In his eyes her insignificance was her only virtue. If she had possessed all the graces known to woman he could not have changed his feeling for her. She was the half sister of his enemy Colum MacKenzie of Leoch, and she had been bartered to him like so many head of cattle when the two families made their peace. The Earl loathed her as he loathed all her kin.  
“You’ve aye forgotten yourself, my child. I’ve a right to forbid whom my children wed. How dare you sit there and tell me that I married a MacKenzie as if that were an excuse for what you’ve done! I made a marriage on paper after you and your brother were growing up to put an end to a clan war. That’s very different from my daughter attempting to arrange a marriage for my son with a MacNab and saddling me with their clan’s debts! All because she doesna like his choice of bride! Jamie is handfasted and we are searching for Claire. We’ve indulged your antics for far too long, Jenny. It’s time to end your meddling.”  
Jenny was silent. Jamie had only been home a few months and their father was already showing favoritism. No matter what Jenny did, her father would never appreciate her nor love her. Not like Jamie. He would always be the Earl’s favorite. “Mary MacNab may lack family fortune, but at least the marriage would no’ bring shame upon the Fraser clan.”  
“Of course not...” Jamie said casually. “If ye can manage to overlook that she’s already carrying a bastard.”  
“Weel, she’s no’ a whore! What do ye think people will say when they find out Claire was a common harlot in Edinburgh?” Jenny snapped back.  
Brian Fraser began to cough so hard as he sipped his chocolate that he nearly choked. “Claire? A whore? Where did ye hear such nonsense?”  
“Jenny...” Jamie said through clenched teeth. “It’s beneath ye to slander an innocent woman.”  
“Jamie... I saw ye with Claire when ye brought her home.... Rutting like wild beasts! She has no family, lands, titles or dowry. She didna even have her own dresses! Ye claimed she’d been robbed, but I ken she’s no’ a lady!”  
“Jenny, whatever ye think about Claire, you are mistaken. She was robbed and she has family... in France. As for her fortune, it surpasses our own. Claire is an heiress and I’m afraid her life may be in danger. Claire was no’ just robbed... the MacKenzies rescued her from men who kidnapped her for ransom.”  
Jenny’s eyes widened as she looked at her father who sat calmly sipping his chocolate during this revelation. “Father... you... you know about this?”  
“Of course. Jamie explained everything when he first arrived. Ye dinna think I would send our people in France to search for a common harlot?”  
Jenny was stunned as she looked at her brother and father in silence. Had she misjudged Claire this whole time?

Jamie finished his chocolate and stood. “I trust there will be no more confusion over who shall be my bride? Father, I need a private word.”  
“Of course... I have news as well,” Brian said folding his napkin. “I’ve had enough chocolate for one morning.” He looked at Katherine with contempt. He had never liked his second wife; as a woman in her late thirties Katherine MacKenzie had been silent and unattractive. As the despised wife and ignored step-mother she was a source of constant irritation to him. It infuriated the Earl to see her sitting in the late Countess’s chair at the dining-table, or sewing by the west window in the Green Salon. Her presence was an affront to him; he despised her and he resented the necessity which had forced him into a miserable travesty of a marriage. The Earl stood up and followed Jamie out of the room.

Jenny sat alone at the table with Countess, and she felt suddenly sorry for her step-mother. “I hope you were not too hurt by my father’s words, madam. I am sure he values you; he is not a demonstrative man.”  
“He fondles his dogs,” the Countess answered, her tone very calm. “He has never once even offered his hand to me.”  
“But you did not expect love,” Jenny reminded her. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable at discussing her father with this woman to whom she hardly spoke at all.  
“No, perhaps not.” The Countess looked up at her. “I don’t know quite what I did expect. I had long ceased to think of marriage when your father’s offer came. I was brought up to think it could be a sweet thing. I pray your marriage will not be like mine.” She stood and left the room leaving Jenny alone with her thoughts.  
The silence was soon interrupted as Mary entered the room fully dressed for winter travel.  
“I want to go home,” Mary said. “Now.”  
For the first time that morning, Jenny didn’t argue, and slowly nodded. “I think that’s best,” she said quietly.

Jamie entered his father’s study and took a seat after closing the door behind him.  
“What news have ye received? Anything from France? Someone must have seen Claire. People dinna just disappear.”  
“Unless they drown at sea...”  
Jamie’s frowned as he stared silently at his father. His words had stung.  
“I am still looking for Claire. I have another matter to discuss. A messenger came not half an hour after before you came down this morning, summoning both of us to the Macdonald’s house.”  
For a moment there was silence between them; the Earl gazed at the small fire in the hearth.  
“Father, what is wrong?” Jamie asked anxiously.  
“The Macdonald’s messenger brought this,” he said, and he handed him a crumpled piece of white silk, sewn into the shape of a cockade.  
“The Stuarts!” Jamie exclaimed. “Oh, Father, no!”  
“That is their emblem,” he answered. “Thirty years ago one of these was brought here to my father in the dead of the night and he rode out. When he returned he had sworn himself to the cause of the King. Before he gathered our people and went out to war, he sent me by ship to France. I was his only son, Jamie, and he knew if he fell that I might be spared if I had taken no part in the Rising.”  
“Father, what is going to happen? Has the King returned?” He was as pale as the silk he twisted in his fingers.  
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But it’s certainly not the King who’s coming. He’s old and retired from the struggle. I believe it’s his son, Prince Charles, who’s making the claim for him this time. And it’s a claim we will not answer. That’s why I must send you to the MacDonalds. If the Stuarts are coming back to bring war and ruin to Scotland, the Frasers of Broch Tuarach are not going to join them. We lost all in the ’15. Our lands and people could not survive another failure. And by God I know it will fail, whatever the enterprise!”  
“But he cannot come back,” he said. “We’ve been at peace for all these years … nobody wants to fight now!”  
“You speak for yourself and for us, my son,” he said. “But that’s not the thinking of men like Alexander Macdonald and others. There have been rumours that the Prince would land with a French army for the past six months. I thought it would come to nothing, but now I fear it has. And there will be men mad enough to join him and destroy themselves and beguile others to destruction with them.”  
“But what was the message, besides this? Did the man say nothing?”  
“He brought a summons from the Macdonalds which he said was one of many going out to families all over the glens. And he gave me that cockade.”  
“Has the Prince landed? If not, surely there is still time to dissuade him?”  
“I expect not... Jamie, I need ye to ride out today and give our answer. The Frasers will no’ fight!”


End file.
